Looking for the Lost
by Lunar
Summary: AU story line that will eventually tie our two favorite VS Bishonen into the modern world, my latest sequel, heavy shonen-ai content. Ashley's longest journey is finally over, but Sydney's is only just begun.
1. The Tower (a prologue)

The Man in the Tower ****

The Tower: A prologue to 'Looking for the Lost'

Warning: This umm... /is/ a dark-fic? Well if read as a "stand alone" which was my original intention. All will be explained in CH 1 of "Looking for the Lost"... don't worry... it's all part of the show... ducks hate mail

//...// - thoughts. I didn't bother adding special tags for languages, assume everyone is understanding each other just fine ^_^;

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Once you had gold,   
Once you had silver,   
Then came the rains   
out of the blue.   
Ever and always.   
Always and ever.   
Time gave both darkness and dreams to you. 

Now you can see   
Spring becomes autumn,   
leaves become gold   
falling from view.   
Ever and always.   
Always and ever.   
No-one can promise a dream come true,   
Time gave both darkness and dreams to you. 

(Enya- Memory of Trees - Once You Had Gold)

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// He... //

// He's gone... //

Cold hands pressed against the glass as weary eyes gazed over the rolling breakers. The sound of the distant ocean was mournful, its low roar a bass counterpoint to the moaning winds. The tears fell, dampening his face, but he didn't care. His eyes stared at the water as if to look away would break him; desperately searching for /something/, Anything to keep from thinking, from /remembering/. It wasn't working, this too reminded him of what he had lost. Pale fingers pressed harder against the pane as silent sobs wracked him, pride refusing to give further voice to the all-consuming pain.

// ... Ashley... //

The mage didn't feel it when his legs gave out, didn't care as he crumpled slowly to the carpet. Slumped against the glass in the dark room, Sydney instinctively clutched at the thin chain around his neck, but the small Rood's sharp surfaces provided no comfort. It was merely another reminder of what would now never be. Even its silvery sheen was muted in the strange gray half-light that had replaced sun and moon. Like the sky, it looked dead, lusterless.

// ... He's gone... there's no coming back... //

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Chang had to fight hard to remain airborne upon crossing the boundary. His leathery wings struggled against the fierce winds for a moment and the black waters below drew closer than he liked to admit. The moment passed however and regaining precious altitude, he shrugged off the exhaustion that breaching the walls had caused, and fought his way to the distant tower. There was a surprising lack of rain, the parched air burned his lungs.

// It /always/ rains when the cub is unhappy... when he was younger he nearly drowned his forest once over a deceased /horse/... //

The startling dryness to the air was nothing to the shock he received as the land came into view. The tall whimsical tower still stood, a testament to its creators' ingenuity and mixed interests, but the gentle rolling meadows had become desert. The once-carefully-manicured world was crumbling to dust. Circling the tower once, he winged his way inland to get a better look at what had once been a familiar place. 

The massive oak was dead. Chang shifted back into his human form and stared in silence at the black and weathered trunk. The leaves had all long since blown away, leaving only a tragic looking collection of branches. Recognizing the beauty still contained in their graceful shape, the Mongolian vaguely wondered if it had died immediately along with its maker, or had suffered the same wasting death as the rest of the region. It had been over fifty years since he had last stood here, either option was a possibility.

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Chang dismissed his wings with a thought, landing gracefully in the tall grass. Even though he visited often he still took a moment to enjoy the world- so different from the soaring peaks of his own- before heading towards the giant oak that marked his true destination. 

// They're late. // 

He huffed in idle irritation as he stared curiously at a happily buzzing purple bumblebee. The silly insects, apparently a gift from Müllencamp at some point long ago, had thrived on the wild flowers. Despite several attempts to 'correct' or banish them, they had become well ingrained into the otherwise 'normal' setting, yet another quirk to be humorously tolerated. An acorn dropped onto his head.

" Hello, Chang." The droll voice a dead giveaway. Dark eyes shifted upwards in irritation to see the blonde's lazy form draped on one of the larger branches overhead.

"And have you become squirrel, Cub? Where's your mate? It is time for his lesson. " Chang reflexively caught the book that was dropped but merely stood back as the mage slid himself off the high branch and dropped gracefully to the ground.

" Well... that /is/ a good question... he could be in the tower... or swimming in the sea... or perhaps up a tree? " Giving the Asian a saucy wink Sydney craned his neck to peer upwards once more. "Ashley... wake up. Your little friend's here and wants to know if you can come out to play... " His grin grew wider as a muffled grumble could be heard from a higher branch. There was a brief rustling of leaves and then a much larger shape landed, cat-like, beside them. A deep voice out paced Chang's in voicing a mild rebuke.

" Hardly 'playing', whelp... it's an entirely different fighting style, and it has proven useful already. As you well know. "

" ...Playing... " Chang caught himself chewing his mustache in irritation and took a calming breath. " Just because /you/ have never seen it as more than an amusing diversion, Sydney, /doesn't/ mean that it can't be a powerful weapon. You should mind your mate more closely. "

" Lover. " 

" What? "

Sydney sighed, " The word is 'Lover', 'Mate' sounds so... /dragon-like/... Every time you say it I get this vision of myself sitting on giant eggs in a grotto somewhere... Neither he nor I are remotely reptilian, nor are you, although you seem to forget more and more with every year..." 

" Bah, semantics. " Chang looked askance of the knight who stood watching the exchange. Ashley merely rolled his eyes and pointed towards the field in silent question.

" Off you go now children... play nicely! " Both fighters ignored the smug taunt from long practice and moved some distance away. Shifting into more comfortable fighting garb and giving the shorter man a laconic grin, Ashley waited for the first attack.

" Well... maybe this is /a little/ like playing... but you won't here /me/ telling him that... " The black-haired man smirked at the comment.

" Still keeping secrets after all this time? "

" After two hundred years? Of course, it keeps him on his toes... wouldn't want him getting bored with me... "

" That is a most unlikely event. " Banter done for the moment, the man lunged towards his tall opponent, continuing the battle they had begun many years ago. Feet and fists lashed out in a mesmerizing pattern in the warm summer sun, while under the tree, Sydney returned to his book.

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// I should've come sooner... /someone/ should've come... // 

The small man moved sadly away from the tree's remains and across the dusty wasteland. The forest that he walked through to reach the shore was little better. The dead, dry pines and leafless elms hurt to see as he threaded his way along the nearly erased path. It reminded him grimly of the look of scorched earth in the wake of an army. Everywhere there were symbols of pain, not a healing sort of grief, but rather a shocked, harsh screaming thing that ate away at a person and left only a shell. Chang resolutely pushed past the miasma of despair and proceeded towards its center. The tower, the final of several variations that he could recall, stood in solitary splendor overlooking the dark coast, its pale walls easy to detect even in the dim light. There was no physical sign that it still possessed any life, but the Mongolian knew better. Sparing a moment to be amazed at how the building's delicate carvings had remained unharmed by the shrieking winds, he pushed himself inside and began the slow climb upwards.

// Fifty years... Why did no one come? Why did I let Her tell me not to come? // 

He knew the answer, he hated himself for it, but he knew; /guilt/. At first there was the horror of the thing, one moment the man had existed, seemingly unstoppable, and the next he was /gone/. Even as far away as his corner of the Shadows, he could feel it, the sudden horrifying /slip/, the /absence/, and the cub's frantic screaming. The screams had been the worst of all. And yet she bid them to wait, to let the mourning man alone, until one by one, the others seemed to forget about him entirely. Chang shuddered at the well remembered sounds of tearing loss and disbelief. He was as much to blame as any of them for the neglect, the avoidance of his duty to one who was almost like his own child. It gnawed at him as he climbed the final staircase into the large bedroom. The gloomy light meant little to him as he peered about, sickly certain of what he'd find. A crumpled form was limply pressed against the window, mindlessly staring out to sea.

// Oh Cub... I'm so sorry... // He simply stood a moment, feeling the raw pain wash over him, and choked back a moan of sympathy. Half a century had not dulled the agony's edge in the slightest. Chang grimly wondered if the mage had even felt the time pass. // Probably not... I doubt he even knows I'm here... // A strained, empty voice proved him wrong.

"... what do you want Chang... " Sydney continued to rest his forehead on the glass, refusing to offer any additional acknowledgement to his unwanted guest.

" I came to talk to you... you've closed yourself off too long, Cub. I was worried about you. " Moving silently, the sage crouched near the unmoving form and hesitating a moment, reached out to touch a shoulder. It flinched away, its owner turning to pin him with a fierce glare.

" I /don't/ recall inviting you... " The hiss was pure venom but tears continued to slowly fall from the gray eyes. 

Chang met the glare unperturbed, refusing to show surprise at the tears. The first he had ever seen the man shed. " And just /who/ taught you everything you know about the building and breaking of barriers? hmmm? Although I must admit even the Lady herself would've had some issues with coming here... they were finely crafted... meant to last forever almost... "

" Apparently they weren't good enough... you're here, is she soon to follow? "

" No, Cub. I came on my own. "

" To offer me pity...? Keep it. " Sydney resumed watching the water.

The sage refused to be baited by the bitter voice, firmly dismissing his anger. Thinking for a moment he tried a different tack, hoping to goad the man back into a more healthy frame of mind. " You know, I think I don't like the new you as much as the old one... this one is far too close to the way you were at the very beginning... you were always so angry then... so desperate to prove you needed /no one/... Yes, you've come full circle, but now without the promise for improvement. /He/ would be disappointed. "

" ... get out... " There was no force behind the blonde's words, but Chang braced himself for what would soon come. 

" And how long do you intend to stay like this? It won't bring him back you know, there's no coming back from /there/... you have to let go... it hurts, I know... "

" What do /you/ know of my Pain! " The Mongolian almost pulled away as the eyes focused on him once more, their agony readily apparent. He felt it burning into his chest, threatening to consume him, but then it was gone. Sydney ruthlessly closing himself off again, voice a mere whisper. " I wish I were dead... "

Chang took a moment to get himself under control, looking about the room to put to needed distance between him and the new surge of pain. The cultist was apathetic now, but there were obvious signs that he had been more energetic in his grieving. The small man eyed the long claw marks around the room in understanding. He winced at the blood apparent amidst the shards of broken mirror on the far wall. " He never desired to hurt you, Cub."

" He /abandoned/ me. He /left/... just like everyone else... "

" You know better... You know why he did it. Can you honestly tell me that your happiness was more important to you than allowing him to live in honor? " He stared in disbelief as the listless man said nothing. " Sydney! If you can look me in the eye, and tell me that you'd have rather he turn his back on everything he believed in, everything that made him who he was, and give up; all to come back to you... then you're more a monster than that /thing/ was... "

" But he would've still been /here/... "

" No Cub, he wouldn't be... either way you'd have lost him... gone or broken, take your pick. " Chang winced as the mage's icy demeanor broke once more, ruthlessness forgotten, as he hugged himself in desolation.

" ... I know... But it hurts... I want him back... I can't do this alone... "

" Then go, let go and leave here... But don't torture yourself like this... "

" ... I can't... "

The fighter blinked in surprise, " Everyone can /die/, Cub... even here... Livia left over a century ago... and she was our youngest save for you... "

" I promised him... He said /live/... I promised that I would live. He swore that if I did... the he would come back... that he would somehow find his way home... But it's a /lie/! I /know/ it's a lie!.. no one can come back from /that/... I knew it the moment he spoke it... the moment he fell... but I made an oath, and I cannot break it... not when it's all I have left of him... Besides, what's the use of /dying/, if he won't even be in the Dead Lands waiting for me...? "

" I'm sorry..." Chang moved to give the younger man a rare embrace. Sydney neither flinched away nor responded. The cultist was no longer feeling anything, just an unceasing hollowness where his emotions should have been. The brief ranting had sucked the energy from him. He wished the feeling would last forever.

" Was it not you who always told me, 'Never apologize, 'tis a sign of weakness' ? But why come now, Chang. There was little point... unless you derive some pleasure from seeing me like this... What has occurred?... " Tears wiped away, gray eyes looked up at him in distant curiosity.

" 'Tis true... there is more to this visit, as overdue as it is... Sydney, there is something the matter with Müllencamp... something is amiss... 'tis a harsh thing to ask... but I want you to go to her, talk to her... she always liked you best... "

The blonde blinked in disbelief. " 'Something is amiss' ? How could you tell... has she gotten /less/ erratic? Why not send the Quartet, they've known her longest... why not go yourself? You're more important than I... "

Chang winced again. " You've been away for along time, Cub... the Quartet... they're almost gone. They wander like ghosts through their temple barely remembering when and where they are... like Titus...I doubt they'll remain here another year before they let go entirely... As for me, She pays me no attention, I do not think that I amuse her anymore. She has become /cruel/ Sydney... more so than ever before... the Dark rules her passions more and more... There is no longer any control... /any/ reason... She hasn't been the same since /he/ left... it came as quite a shock to /everyone/... "

" Oh... "

" So you'll see her? " The mage blinked thoughtfully at him and turned back to the window.

" No... did she offer assistance to me as he slipped through my fingers? Do you think he /wanted/ to go!? But she did nothing... so let her do as she pleases... I don't care anymore. "

" There was nothing she /could/ do! There was no force anywhere that could mitigate His choice...his sacrifice... " Even in anger the fighter couldn't bring himself to say the long-tabooed name. " Go to her... should she become worse the very order of things could be put into jeopardy! People will die! " 

" Let them. " 

" Sydney! You /don't/ mean that...! " 

" Oh, but I do... he's dead... let them suffer... 'tis all the same to me... "

" That's monstrous. "

" Get out. " There was a definite surge this time, a command that Chang could avoid obeying, but it took his entire focus.

" Not until I've spoken my peace. " The Mongolian grimly adjusted his robe and smoothed his mustache. He watched the younger man eye him challengingly for a moment longer but then shrug, consenting to his presence for a little while longer. " Do you know /why/ he bid you to remain here, Cub? He knew... like I know... your work is not yet done... your purpose... "

" ... my purpose is incomplete?... Why do you suppose that? I already fulfilled my destiny... "

" Did you never wonder that while the rest of us have grown weaker, you have grown strong? Our powers are suppose to grow ever lesser with death, but yours did not... even now you could easily defeat me...if you truly wished it... You have never been /just/ another one of us... "

" Probably due to prolonged contact with the Rood because of /him/... they will fade... and soon no doubt... there is no final chore to complete. "

" I wonder... " 

Sydney sighed in annoyance. " Was that all? I'm tired. "

" Just one more thing, Cub. " Chang stood again and joined the mage in staring at the dark water. He felt suddenly sick to say it, but it had to be done. The boy had already had too many unexpected departures from his life, he didn't deserve the pain of /another/. " I... I'm /leaving/. " The response to the quiet statement was immediate. The cultist looked up in shock, ennui forgotten, his eyes confused.

" /Leaving/? You're going to the Dead Lands!? " There was a definite trace of fear in his voice.

" No, Cub. Nothing so mundane... I'm going to go to Reis Peak, the sanctuary for dragons... you've been there with me before. The Shadow Lands... they aren't the paradise they used to be... not for me. I've thought about it for some time now, and I've decided to become a dragon /permanently/... /They've/ invited me to stay and Müllencamp will likely never even realize that I'm gone... "

Sydney stared at him, new pain apparent on top of the old. " Even you... even you leave me... when you're gone there will be no one... I'll be alone. "

" This is why you /must/ talk to her... make her see reason! You can do it... she /listens/ to you... "

" I have nothing left to give... not to her, not to anyone... nothing at all..." He slowly stood, " Fare-you-well Chang, and for what it's worth... I wish you happiness... "

The sage stared at his calm face in disbelief, " What will you do? "

" What I must do... " For a silent moment both of them remembered the echo of /another/ voice, His voice; uttering the same words. Sydney wavered, agony flaring once more in his eyes. " I'm tired Chang... so tired... " He halted the older man's worried approach with a wave. " Go. I needs must build my walls /thicker/ it seems... there is no one left here that I would care to have visit me... "

Chang made to protest, but found himself suddenly ejected, standing alone in the shifting mists beyond the border without feeling any transition.

// Strong... // The barriers sealing off the world were growing more solid and complex as he watched. He stood awhile, staring at the opaque surface, before turning with a sigh to make his way across worlds. Once he arrived, he would join with the Dragon Lords in sealing off the portal to the Shadow Lands. Whatever insanity was about to occur, they would no longer have anything to do with it.

// Good-bye, Cub. //

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Sydney focused with grim intensity on the new wards. He had spoken the truth when he said he wanted nothing to do with the goddess, but there was a limit to the practicality of the statement. The Shadows /were/ Her country, but even she had to obey certain rules. It was just a matter of using them against her, of sealing off every avenue of approach. The mage stood in the center of the room for hours, days, meticulously making corrections. Somewhere in the middle of his work he had found both the ocean and the wind to be too distracting, unnecessary, now they were both still and silent. Exhausted from his labor he let himself relax somewhat as he stared over the now glassy smooth surface, and the pain came flooding back. The mage was once more left with nothing to do but /think/. He didn't notice when the tears began again, he simply staggered to his bed and curled up in a shuddering ball, not bothering to reach for a blanket. 

// ... Ashley... //

// Mother looked so peaceful when she died... so quiet... so serene... as if she was sleeping... as if a gentle shake would wake her. They were /furious/ with me, sneaking to her room late at night, I shook her... for so long.... but she never woke... never heard me begging her to come back. The look in his eyes when they found me... I knew... I knew things would never be the same again... that look... He never said good-bye to me when he turned me over to the cult... I was simply an unpleasant memory being disposed of, like last year's fashionable coat. I thought you hated me... blamed me... I understand now, father, that /look/... I saw it again, you see... just the other day... in the mirror... //

His sobbing breaths were the only sound he could hear, his world was silent, static, dead.

// But mother looked so happy... as if she were sleeping, dreaming sweet dreams forever... If there are no distractions... With no one to wake me... maybe I can sleep forever too... Will I dream of you I wonder?... Ashley...? I miss you... //

Sydney's tears slowly dried as he fell into a restful oblivion. 

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Wahhh! /grim/! /And/ we have to wave good-bye to Chang! Not that he's dead... actually he may make another appearance later... I dunno. Wow, this little depressing fic has been in the back of my head since... hmmm well a while... I'm surprised I could actually finally write it, angst isn't my forte... So what's the deal w/ the rain comments... umm it's like this... Sydney never cries.. well ok he cried once when his mom died but he was like 5yrs old... so he used to use rain as a sort of "outlet" when he was depressed... but this time he actually cries /real/ tears... significant maybe? later? who knows... I'm bad at symbolism...

I've been on one hell of an Enya kick lately.... new album and all... oddly she and Moby really help me "think Sydney"... wonder why... The song I quoted above actually has an even more deliciously depressing 3rd verse... or is it 4th.... I was waffling about tacking the whole thing up there... but it takes up too much space as is... : ) Big thanks to shepardsmoon.net for the lyrics.

Stay tuned for the next installment of the fic (/No/ I'm /not/ ending it here... I like /happy/ endings... I just like making them /work/ a bit for it...; ) "Looking for the Lost" Where we will find out "Just what happened to the big oaf, anyway?"

Right then. See you later.

Lunar. 

[http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com][1]

   [1]: http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com/



	2. Are you awake?

Looking for the Lost: part 1 ****

Looking for the Lost: part 1

Warning: AU fic, some homosexual scenarios, rated R. Sequel to "Wandering in the Waking" and "The Tower". //...// represents 'thoughts'.

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One day, one night, one moment,   
my dreams could be, tomorrow.   
One step, one fall, one falter,   
east or west, over earth or by ocean.   
One way to be my journey,   
this way could be my Book of Days. 

(Enya- Shepardsmoon- Book of days)

Mason exploded awake with a choked cry. His harsh breaths and pounding heart made it impossible to hear anything, not that he truly expected to. It was 3 A.M., the house and neighborhood were absolutely silent. Sweat slick hands convulsively clenched the sheets as he shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, fighting for control of his wild emotions. It wouldn't do to wake up anyone else, it was only a dream. Mason dreamed almost every night. Eventually the surge of adrenaline faded, leaving his body feeling weak and sick; shuddering as the drafts chilled his damp skin. The teenager deliberately laid down covered himself with the sheets, preparing for sleep that wouldn't come. Counting the tiles in his ceiling served to put some needed emotional distance between himself and the visions still echoing in his mind. It was a ritual he was intimately familiar with. 

The dreams were special, as little as he knew about them, he had always been certain of that. Most people, when they awoke from a dream forgot about it quickly, if they remembered it at all. Their dreams were flimsy insubstantial things, not meant to survive the light of day. His dreams were /real/, and he always remembered them. There was a definite pattern to them. He knew, he had been keeping track. Mason snorted at himself as he stared idly at the ceiling, wondering as always at how his capacity for philosophy increased with a lack of sleep. 

// Looking for a message in a dream... I might as well be like that woman searching for aliens by listening to the static on a radio! Besides, according to the books /those/ kinds of dreams are either more interactive, or less than mine... It's like I'm playing the part of someone else... I can experience things, but there is no control, someone else chooses how I move, what I say, what I feel even... //

Mason shuddered again at the raw emotion that the nightmare had triggered, trying to put it in some perspective. Behind his eyes, the images endlessly repeated in a silent pantomime. 

// I... I was falling... There were hands trying to hold on to me, and I couldn't... And somehow I knew that if I fell... I'd die. But I couldn't hang on, it was impossible... finally I just let go... // The dark-haired boy rubbed his face, feeling the moisture trickling from his eyes. // I... /He/ was there... /He/ was the one reaching for me... he looked so sad... so afraid... I wish I could've heard him, he was shouting... shouting something /important/... but I couldn't hear. I can /never/ hear... I wish I knew who he was. // He curled tighter into himself, feeling even worse as the fundamental truth of the thought settled heavily on his chest. Listening cautiously he took the risk of letting the tears fall, if he was quiet, maybe no one would know. The silent sobs brought a small measure of relief. 

// I'm Sorry... I'm /so/ sorry... I made you cry... I don't even know if you exist outside of my head... I don't even know your name... but I know I hurt you, you were depending on me... and I let you down... // Feelings of intense loss and sorrow kept him company through the night; only fading with the dawn. He watched the clock's numbers flip until it read 5:30 A.M. 

"... /Happy/ Birthday, Mason...."

He morbidly laughed at his own joke, and watched the sunrise. It was the first day of summer vacation, and Mason was 15 years old.

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"You look a little tired, Honey. You sleep alright?"

Mason nodded cheerfully and settled down in front of his bowl of cereal. Across the table Kathy caught his eye and deliberately tapped her forehead twice. The informal code had remained their secret since she had first started exhibiting her talent as an empath. As close has he had always been to his older sister, he knew he could conceal nothing. The gesture was as clearly understood as if she had spoken into his mind; 'I know something's bothering you, We'll talk later.' Luckily the rest of his family, was oblivious. Mason was often grateful that his eldest sister and parents did not share Kathy's insight. Head buried in the newspaper, Robert Donnelly prodded his son and began to rattle off scores from the recent baseball game. Forcing his mind back into the present, the teenager cheered the local team's victory and focused on finishing his breakfast. At the kitchen counter his mother and Mary were already eagerly flipping through magazines full of bridal fashions.

" Now, you /can't/ go wrong with lace dear..."

"We can't afford /that/, Mom! My job at the school doesn't pay me in diamonds you know, and Peter already works too much..."

"Your father..."

"Is already doing too much! I don't want to bankrupt you two!"

The newspaper was set down with rustle as the topic of the conversation decided to add his opinion. "Do you want lace, Mary?"

"... I don't /need/ it, Pa."

"Than lace you should have! It's your /wedding/, child... I can always extract my investment back later by having your young man come over and build me that deck I've been promising your mother for years." The gentle eyes glanced sideways to give his son a knowing wink. If left alone mother and daughter would quibble cost for hours. Susan had married and kept house at the height of the Depression, and had instilled in her favorite daughter the idea of frugality a high art form. For Mason, any events before the war years were a total blur, victory over Japan had been achieved when he was only ten. 

"So, what are the birthday boy's plans for today, hmmm? It's no shabby thing to have it fall on the first day of summer vacation this year... Quite a lucky sign I think." 

Mason shrugged at the idea. "Nothing much, me and some of the guys are figuring on starting up a neighborhood league for the summer, since Mr. Walter's is moving, the regular ones are sort of up in the air... It wouldn't be a summer without baseball..."

His father raised a curious eyebrow. "And who are you going to get to manage this little project? It's a lot of work to do schedules and teams and such..."

"It won't be anything formal, I figure we'll just meet twice a week and practice, maybe play a game if enough people show up... We'll see how it goes... Do you want me to stop by the shop later? Help out a bit?"

"Don't forget to be home by 5, Dear, you know we have people coming over for your party..." His mother's voice carried over the sound of Kathy starting the dishes to soak.

"Awe, Ma..."

"Don't you 'Awe, Ma' /me/ young man, you may feel you're too old to have a 'kids' party, but you can't shirk your family! Your Aunt and Uncle are driving over especially to see you!"

"Peter and Brian are coming too, they say that the fount 'the perfect present'... whatever /that/ could be." Mary adjusted her pristine hair and gave her blushing sister a wink. She continued in a stage whisper, "I think Brian mentioned that he'd be brining something for you too Kat." The blush only grew pinker.

Checking the clock, Mason's father picked up his coat with a sigh, ruffling the boy's hair. "Well now... maybe I should start looking to take extra shifts... If Brian's reached the 'gift giving' stage already... I'd better get ready for another wedding soon..."

"Dad! I'm only 17! And besides We both agreed not to even consider it until after gradua- oops." By now even the girl's ears were pink.

He laughed in amusement. "Don't worry yourself Kat, it's not like we didn't see it coming... two daughters, two mages, two strapping young Guardians banging down the door... Ah, to be young again." His wife simply rolled her eyes before kissing his cheek and handing him a lunch bag.

"There are two beef sandwiches and a thermos of lemonade, I also wrapped up a bit of cake from last night..."

"Thanks love. Good luck with the baseball Mason, give a holler if you need a hand getting things organized, I'm sure the boys at the repair shop would be delighted to be recruited... anything in the name of sport... and all that. See ya at dinner!" Everyone waved as he ducked out the door, the Cadillac in the driveway purring to life and crawling down the street.

"Maybe if we found a synthetic lace..."

"That could work..."

"They look so real now... it's not like anyone would know the difference..."

Mason rolled his eyes at the continued bridal debate that the women of the house had returned to. Reaching for the bag he had stashed under his seat, he put on the cap and headed to the door. 

"5PM Mason! Come back earlier so that you can bathe and put on your suit! I won't have you eating off the fine china while wearing cleats!"

"Yes, Mom." Taking the opportunity to flee, he carefully shut the door and stepped out into the bright sunshine.

// Party... bah. //

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It was that had anything against parties, Mason decided as he walked through the quiet neighborhood. He was actually looking forward to seeing his relatives, and his sisters' fiancé and boyfriend were both fun guys to hang out with, even if they were obliged to crowd his room when they came to visit. The nearest Academy was just south of Washington DC, and was still a little to far for the men to drive up from and back in one day. The annoyance of having to share his room was usually mitigated by hearing all the strange stories of Trainee life down at the school. Brian was completing his last year before official certification and so had plenty of tales of woe. Peter, who graduated two years before, could still reminisce over the pranks he had pulled. The two of them, both originally from the same area of Virginia, considered it divine providence to have fallen for sisters. Mason called it luck.

// Two friends from grade-school both qualify for Guardian training at the national Academy, go through said training, hangout in the same groups, with the same girls, and they call it 'destiny' that they have crushes on both Mary /and/ Kathy? Whatever... //

The houses on the block were all remarkably similar, only the colors providing any clue as to the families' personalities. He walked up to the front door of a particularly garish pink one and rang the doorbell. The commotion on the other side was only ended when the door banged open. 

"Oh! Damn I /knew/ it'd be you... hold on, lemmie just get my glove..." The freckled face turned away to holler into the house. "Mom! Maisie is here! I gotta go!"

"But what about the /lawn/?!"

"Bud will take care of it!"

A frazzled looking woman in a floral apron appeared with a pair of sneakers. Handing them to her son, she gave their visitor a tired smile. "Hello Mason, how is your mother doing?"

"She's fine, Mrs. McGuire, How are you?"

"Oh I'm just lovely, dear, as polite as ever I see... Too bad Mark here can't learn some of /that/ from you too..."

"...Mom!..."

"What? It's /true/... You're positively savage sometimes..." Mason suppressed a laugh at his friend's grumpy expression.

"Right, I got everything... Let's get the gang."

"You boys come back when you want some lunch, ok?" Mark shook his head in embarrassment and pulled his cap lower as he stomped out of the house. Cutting across the backyard, the boys headed around the next block, picking up teammates as they went.

"Why /are/ you so nice to my mom anyway... People will think you're just some sort of kiss up..."

"People can think whatever they please... they know if they say anything I'll just kick their ass..."

"You have a point..."

"Besides, your mom /feeds/ me... And right about now I'll do /anything/ to keep from having to spend time at home... My mom has "marriage fever"... If I'm in her line of sight... she gonna find some way for /me/ to have to get involved... bad enough that I have to be an usher..."

Several of the younger boys groaned in agreement. To be forced into a suit was almost a fate worse than death for many of them. The group of boys had swelled to over fifteen, and as they jogged over to the field, they found another five waiting for them. Mason counted heads with satisfaction; they would be able to have a /real/ game if they wanted to. Tapping his bat on the ground, he used his superior height and general reputation to get everyone's attention.

"Hey! Um... As you all know, the usual summer coach for athletics has been called away because his wife is ill... And so far nobody's been able to take over and form a summer league for us all... So Mark and I..." The other boy waved jauntily, content to let the more popular boy run the meeting. "We've decided to set up a sort of informal league until the adults get their act together. Now I think I know most of you, but I bet some of you are new... how many of you guys saw the fliers we put up in the locker-room?" A scattering of hands were raised towards the back of the crowd. "Ok.. that's grand... good job Mark. Now... how many of you have played baseball before?" This time more hands went up. "Ok! Wow. So I have this notebook here... and a pen... /somewhere/... Right. If you guys could write a name, preferably /yours/, and a phone number where I can call you... and Um... what you think your skill level is, then I'll be able to figure out how things will go for the next few weeks... for Drills and stuff." He looked at his friend to see if there was anything he was forgetting. Mark shrugged and picked up the speech.

"Right... So ideally we want to meet a half day Saturday and maybe once more during the week... You have to supply your own gear, a glove and stuff... if this is a problem come talk to me... I have a few spares. Any questions?" A few hands shot up.

Grinning at Mason as the taller boy began making columns in the back of his math notebook, the red-head began pointing. "You, the one in the Mets shirt."

"Are we going to be broken up by age group?"

"Not unless there are enough people to make more than two teams, as of now... No. You in the red."

"Can we not meet on Wednesday? That's when the Scout meetings are..."

"Ok, we've got a vote for 'Not Wednesday'... Anyone else care?" More hands shot up and Mason passed the notebook and pencil to the nearest boy. His mind, now completely absorbed in the problems of the day, finally was able to relinquish the last vestiges of the nightmare. Pausing to acknowledge his improved mood, he grinned at the eager crew, ready to enjoy the summer. 

------------------------------------------------

The sound of leather impacting leather was almost meditative in the long lazy afternoon. The various kids were all spread out around the in-field in pairs, practicing basic skills. The weeks alternated between drill and pick-up games and most of the new members were steadily improving. Mason pulled his cap lower and smoothly caught the sharp curveball aimed his direction. Pausing a moment to adjust his grip, he returned it with a curve of his own and grinned as his partner fumbled then dropped the offensive ball.

"Pay attention."

"Show off."

It was too hot for the argument to go on for long, they kept up the lethargic banter more for the sake of tradition than anything. Mark caught a ground-ball and paused a minute to stretch his back and look around. The rest of the team seemed content to keep their exertion to a minimum but still were laughing and joking, glad for the excuse to be out of the house. He snorted as Mason adjusted his hat downwards once more and followed his look. The taller boy was no more quiet than usual, but lately there were more signs of exhaustion. Although he seldom talked about it, the boy was obviously suffering from another period of insomnia, or as Mason put it 'not sleeping well'. The shadows under his eyes were dead-giveaways despite the fact that he remained as energetic as ever. Pushing the curls out if his eyes with a sigh, the red-head wondered how long it would last this time. Still, the lanky-boy's sleeplessness did have the benefit of improving everyone's chances of sneaking a ball past him, a notoriously difficult task. Mark studied his distracted friend for a moment before giving in to the urge to pull a prank and furtively adjusted his mitt. It was meant to be a startling but painless impact, he lobbed the ball so as to collide with a shoulder without the force to leave a bruise. A sudden gust of the hot wind caught it slightly however, and the red-head winced to see it curve upwards. The ball should've hit the dark boy in the chin, but it was abruptly stopped by a glove. Mason's arm seemed to move of its own volition flashing upwards to intercept the threat and neatly catching the ball with a solid dusty smack. Tired eyes turned away from the field to stare curiously at what had been plucked from the air, then over at his teammate. 

"Sorry..." Mark shrugged guiltily.

"S'all right... I was tuning-out... my fault." The boy stared at the ball a moment longer, looking a little confused before they returned to the game of catch. 

------------------------------------------------

// Ugh... That was weird... // 

Mason shook himself internally, trying to pay attention to the sights and sounds around him. His arm still tingled slightly from the catch and it was accompanied by a more distracting cool buzz in the back of his head. He was left with the feeling that something had just happened, but was uncertain of /what/. His friend was watching him closely now, concern silent but obvious.

// Oh great... He probably thinks I'm sick again or something... I /have/ to pay more attention... // 

But his random thoughts refused to cooperate and the smallest things seemed to be trying to make him uncomfortable. Even his glove bothered him, the seams of the new leather biting uncomfortably into his hand. It had been a birthday present and was still not completely broken-in. It had endured far more use than some of the other presents that he had received; Mason sighed in disbelief, thinking of the hunting rifle and leather jacket that were carefully stored in the closet. He was sure Peter and Brian had meant well, but his mother had all but had a heart attack at the sight of /those/ gifts. The jacket perhaps he could have gotten away with, it was 'rebellious' but not unheard of, especially if he didn't wear it often. The gun on the other hand was decidedly banned. It was all he could do to keep it stored safely in the closet instead of being sold off. His father, ever the more understanding of the two, had simply rolled his eyes at her complaints and later took it on himself to introduce Mason to a few of his friends who were more inclined to hunting.

// Those two idiots probably never even thought it'd be a problem, Hell, their families probably go hunting together every year... and then for Guardians, using weapons is just... /expected/... They looked completely dumbstruck when she started yelling... Oh well... it was a good thought... someday I'll learn how to shoot properly... how hard can it be? //

He nodded at Mark's suggestion for break-time and for a little while was content to just sit and listen to the loud boy marshal the younger players into a group and give some rudimentary batting tips. Somehow watching his friend demonstrate practice swings only served to trigger memories of his dreams again. Lately they had be frighteningly detailed, and active. Mason rubbed his face. Every night he slept long and deeply, yet he constantly awoke feeling as if he'd not slept at all. His mind was full to bursting with his /other/ life, now full of medieval people, places and an unending series of battles. This too he could trace back to his birthday, but if it was a 'present,' it was one he was beginning to think that he could do without.

Mason could clearly remember staying up late into the night listening avidly to Peter's stories of what Guardian training was like. The two had shared his room as usual and had exchanged tales of fighting, heroic rescues, bizarre monsters, and wild parties until almost dawn. Trainee life certainly seemed a cut above the ordinary and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like. He shrugged to himself, dismissing the thought. He seemed destined to be the 'ordinary' child of the family, a fact that pleased his mother no end.

// 'Ordinary'... /right/... sure I have all the magical ability of a /brick/, but still... these /dreams/... and Kat is determined that I tell Dad at least... as if... it'd only worry him... and he'd tell Mom... and she'd... She'd /freak/ out... better that I just shut up about it... /my/ problem, /I'll/ deal with it. //

The boy grimaced, adjusting his cap in a habitual jerk. 

// 'Deal' with it... /right/... I'm starting to forget what's /real/... sitting here... I can still feel them... like /memories/... I can't make them go away and these ones, they're just as bad as the old ones... I know I asked for a change... but this is ridiculous. //

------------------------------------------------

// Please... Not tonight... let me not dream tonight...//

Mason splashed cold water on his face and glared at his reflection. Even with the bathroom door closed he could hear the two older boys softly laughing and getting ready for bed. The last of the birthday cake was nothing but crumbs, and the rest of the house was dark and quiet. Feeling anxious, he began to brush his teeth.

// If I wake up crying it would be bad enough... it'd be childish and stupid... but I could call it a nightmare and blame it on the sugar... But if I were to have one of /those/ dreams... god I'll just Die... I will! //

A blush began to rise in his cheeks as he quickly rinsed and spat. Tempting images replaying themselves despite his embarrassment. Wicked gray eyes beckoned him forward into a close embrace, words were soundlessly exchanged, a proposal, a response. He had no idea what was said, but he had no doubts of the intent. Mason was also in no doubt that it was /he/ who initiated the kisses, slow at first but with increasing abandon he explored the more-than-willing body in his arms. The hands stripping him of his shirt were strong and sure causing him to shiver as they caressed his back and then further down, fumbling with his belt. Warm lips were trailing across his shoulder and down his chest, his rapidly tightening pants elicited a chuckle from the teasing man. He gasped in delight and slid his hands over the narrow hips pressed against his. 

A knock at the door startled him out of his unwitting reverie and the dark-haired boy swore a silent oath. "I'll be out in a sec!"

"I gotta /go/, Maisie!"

"Don't call me Maisie..." The growled response was pure instinct. His mind was already occupied with more important things, like how to get rid of the growing erection that was threatening to tent the front of his striped pajamas. 

// Shit. Shit. Shit. Think of /anything/ but /that/ ... Moron! You should know better by now! Jeez... something /really/ disgusting... like Ms. Fobwith... in a hula-skirt... Ugh... //

He rested his head on the cool porcelain of the sink-basin and resolutely pushed all thoughts of a certain seductive blonde away into a distant corner of his mind. The image of his math teacher dancing served to immediately quell his rising hormones and it was easy to follow it by the long remembered sermon by Father McBride.

// Men cannot love men, it's a sin, an abomination, they go to Hell... Put your faith in God... live a clean life, resist temptation... //

Mason began to laugh at the absurdity of the words. He wasn't entirely certain why the dreams excited him, but he was hardly willing to call his feelings /evil/. Somehow he could never find it with him to take the stern warnings given to the teenagers that seriously. He went to church every week, and participated as far as was expected, but always there was a part of him that refused to be anything but cynical about the glories of heaven and the rest of the rhetoric. As far as he could see the Pope was simply an old man who lorded over an organization with far to many historic treasures that didn't rightfully belong to it.

// Good thing Mother doesn't know I think that... she'd probably disown me... God maybe I /am/ a true pervert... what is wrong with me that I find the idea of Catholicism just a massive joke... I can't help it... I just /know/ they're wrong sometimes... especially about /him/... //

Behind his eyelids, his phantom lover flashed a characteristic smirk, seeming to tell him his fears were entirely ungrounded. He grinned back and guiltily unlocked the bathroom to let Peter in. Brian muttered a sleepy 'goodnight' from his sleeping bag as Mason climbed into bed.

// Please... let me dream of something that's /normal/... something that's not me dying... or him being... well nothing with him in it... that'd be safe...right? //

The dark-haired boy fell asleep, and immediately into the middle of a war.

------------------------------------------------

// Well... at least I'm not worrying about having to wash my own laundry anymore... // 

He pulled himself out of the memory but still felt odd, the cool 'burning' sensation in the back of his mind was threatening to become a full-blown headache, except that there was no pain. The baseball field appeared dreamlike, the short grass wavering in the hot sun and then shifting, changing. He stared bemusedly as Mark's shouting form suddenly altered, becoming that of soldier swinging a massive club. Around him an inhuman army sprung to life, surging silently across a grassy plain. He stared at the cavalry in wonder, feeling the vibration of the animal's hooves as they impacted with the ground, the hot wind suddenly carried the scent of blood, gunpowder, and smoke. A second army appeared as a smudge on the horizon, their cannons firing in slow succession. The earth near by erupted from an explosion, but he was unfazed. Feeling perfectly at ease amidst the chaos he swung astride and goaded his horse forward, grinning as the armies met and clashed. His sword arm moved with a fluid grace and his blood sang, to his left a flash of color caught his eye, and he felt the smile tug at his lips again. Arms encased in elaborate steel armor, his lover was suddenly at his side laughing amidst the slaughter. His hair glowed like golden fire as he dove into the battle, using a thin sword and his sharp claws to good effect. Mason felt his lips move soundlessly and watched the smaller man grin and copy him. They raised their hands simultaneously and he saw magic bloom from their outstretched fingers, fire boiling through the air to clear a wide path through the mob.

" Mason! You awake?!"

He blinked twice before the battle, and the feeling of disorientation began to fade. Rubbing his throbbing head he looked around. The other boys were all staring at him expectantly. "What? Jeez, sorry, I'm totally out of it..."

"You need to get some sleep man..."

"Yeah yeah... it's just the heat."

Mark merely shook his head, " We're going to start batting practice for a bit before calling it a day... You feel up to pitching?"

"Um yeah... "

By the time his head started feeling normal again, it was almost time to go home. Mason idly pitched another curve ball to Mark who bunted it back to him with a tap. He was focusing very hard on staying 'awake' and it was probably because of this that after a few minutes of feeling anxious, he noticed he was being watched. Glancing over his shoulder he realized that it wasn't /him/ in particular who was under observation, rather it was the team as a whole. Hesitantly standing along the distant fence, boy with blonde hair was quietly watching. Mason subtly caught his friend's eye and pointed out the spectator.

"Who's that?"

"Dunno... a new kid?"

"Should we say 'Hi'? "

"He looks kinda skittish..."

"I've got an idea..." Mark nodded in agreement with the cryptic hand gestures and prepared for the next ball. The pitch, this time a fastball, was met not with a bunt, but a solid swing, sending the ball arcing up and wide, towards the fence. Mason grinned, and giving an innocent shrug, started jogging after it. 

The ploy worked perfectly, as far as it went. The dark-haired pitcher was able get quite near the visitor in 'searching' for the baseball. Once he was in shouting distance it was only polite to greet the boy. For a moment it seemed as though Mark would be right, and that the kid would bolt. But the awkward instant passed and a hand was tentatively waved in reply. Taking his cap off so as to appear less threatening, Mason jogged closer.

"Hey..."

"Umm... Hi..."

"You new here?" He saw the younger boy flinch and hastily revised the question. " Not that it's a bad thing or nothing... it's just that I've never seen you around before..."

"...Yeah... I... My family is just moving in..."

"Fair enough..." Mason watched the boy fidget for a moment before taking pity on him and continuing the conversation. "So... Do you like baseball?"

"Oh Yes... Umm I mean... It's ok... but..."

"...but... You've never played before have you..."

"... no..."

"Wanna learn?" He put his cap back on with a grin and coaxed the blonde over the fence. "The name's Mason by the way..." His new teammate muttered something and blushed bright red. 

"Huh?"

"... Gaylord Price..."

"You're /kidding/." The tall boy almost had to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing, but the sight of the smaller boy's miserable face quickly calmed him down. "Well look... I'm /not/ about to introduce you as Gaylord... it's... umm... not a very baseball sort of name... how about we just call you 'Chip' or something..."

"Chip...? Really...? I mean it's fine! Thanks!"

Mason suppressed another laugh. "Nice to meet you, Chip. Let's introduce you around."

------------------------------------------------

For someone who started out tripping over himself every time he swung the bat, Chip was showing some improvement. Mark smothered a laugh as the smaller boy successfully caught a fly-ball only to loose his balance and fall over. Mason simply shook his head and watched two other outfielders haul the blonde to his feet. The catch was solid, Mark's team was now on its second out. Lazily catching the ball aimed at him, the taller boy adjusted his hat, signaled his catcher, and tried to sneak a third out past his best friend. The game finished without further mishap, Mason driving the final ball with precision over the out-stretched hands of the first-base as the runner made a dash for home. Waving good-bye to the other kids, he scooped up his gear and joined a small crew heading home. It had become something of a tradition over the past weeks to walk some of the younger children home in the dusky early evening. He was content to keep his participation in the conversation to a minimum, preferring to listen to the Davis twins loudly cheering 'the new kid' for his catch. Chip, for his part, blushed readily and pulled his borrowed cap down lower across his eyes. This nervous action merely gave them fresh fodder to tease him with as they pointed out its similarities to their captain's. Mason shrugged in amusement and adjusted his cap as well, showing he didn't care. One-by-one the boys split off to their separate houses and he waved the shy blonde home. He couldn't help but note that the boy was furtively checking behind them and down the street as he went indoors.

// Odd... Bullies I wonder? It's been a few weeks since he moved in... and I haven't /heard/ anything about him having problems... and it's not like he'd tell /me/... no, but maybe the Davis' has seen something... I'll ask them to keep an eye on the rookie... //

Giving no sign of his concern he carefully backtracked and knocked on the door of the pale green house around the corner. Two curious faces peeked out, "Mason?"

"Hey... Can I ask you guys something? It's about Chip..."

------------------------------------------------

Although he made sure to keep an eye on the younger boy whenever he could, he didn't want to do anything that would seem intrusive. The twins did their part, they lived closer than anyone else, but they readily confessed that they didn't spend that much time with him outside of practice. However as the weeks went on Mason noticed a steadily increasing tendency for the smaller boy to show up with scrapes or bruises. It was frustrating in the up-most, but as near to the edge of the neighborhood as Chip lived, there was no telling if he was having problems with people from the adjoining development, or from somewhere else entirely.

// Please let it not be his family... There's /nothing/ I can do about /that/... if it's just some morons... then fine... I can try and tell them to piss off... it pays to be taller then most people my age... I may push people around sometimes, but at least I make sure that they deserve it... //

Things came to a head one lazy Friday as he was walking back from his father's shop. The dark-haired boy wasn't exactly planning to do anything with his evening, he had spend the afternoon helping repair the exhaust on Mr. Farrow's Cadillac and was now musing over spending the evening watching Quiz Show. 

// And Kat will be distracted by Brian and Peter coming for a visit... so with any luck I can just sit like a lump and not think about anything and not have to answer any embarrassing questions about how I've been sleeping lately... It's bad enough that she woke me twice last weekend saying I was so "loud" I woke her up... good thing I was only dreaming about another battle... funny how there's almost a pattern to them, the more I dream... the more modern they start to look... lately I've been fighting mostly humans... almost like I'm some sort of musketeer, a rifle in one hand, a sword in the other... and Him lurking right behind me so close I could turn and kiss him... but I never do... or maybe I can't... how confusing. //

He pondered why it seemed that his dreams were constantly segregated between the chaotic images of crowds and the more private moments spent at 'the tower'. Looking over each carefully he saw an unmistakable trend; the only times he really /touched/ the wily blonde at all was when they were alone, 'at home' as he had begun to think of it. While his lover was frequently in his other dreams, it was only as an observer or travel companion. He seemed strangely out of place in the other settings. Mason was so engrossed in the problem that he almost didn't see the person running to intercept him until they bowled him over. He caught the fast moving boy and stared down in confusion at Eric Davis, the freckled boy was sporting a scrape on his chin and was generally out of breath. 

"What the..."

"Mason! Thank God... I went to Mark's 'cuz he was closer but he's not home and you gotta come! We found the bullies! Or rather, /they/ found us! Dave's with Chip but they're gonna get pounded!"

"Crap!" Mason didn't even notice the younger boy's startled response to the out-of-character explicative, he was already mentally measuring the distance he needed to cover. "Where? Near his house?" 

"No man, by the church, we went to meet him today when he got out of cub-scouts class or whatever it is he does there Friday afternoons... and there they were!" The last bit had to be shouted as the taller boy began to run. True to his high-energy nature, Eric somehow managed to keep up for a short time. "I mean it had to be /there/ right? We've followed him every where else! Just like you said... That was the only place left! And Dave said 'get Mark' because we thought you'd be at work... but I tried there..."

"I know, I know! How many!"

"Eight man! I hope Dave doesn't try and fight, it'll be a bloodbath. Those crazy Italian kids don't fight fair!"

"How the Hell did he get mixed up with that crowd? Eric... Get your Dad... I've got a feeling we may need him!"

"You're Kidding, He'll be /so/ pissed if he thinks we've been fighting... Mason what the Hell are you gonna Do!"

"What ever I have to!" Mason made a vague 'shoo'-ing gesture and put on a sudden burst of speed, hurtling over a low fence to cut through a backyard shortcut. The shorter boy slowed, clutching a stitch in his side and watched in awe as his teammate dashed away. Feeling more than a little worried he staggered home to call the police dispatch office.

------------------------------------------------

Mason slowed to a jog as he approached the prim looking church on the edge of the neighborhood. There was no sigh of unusual activity out front, glancing up and down the street all he could see was people wandering into the Five-and-Dime and further down the street the library was turning on its exterior lights. He took a moment to catch his breath and raked his hair unconsciously.

// Around back... it'd be pretty secluded there... especially if the adults have all cleared out for the evening... Damn but this place needs better lighting! //

A muffled shout of pain pushed him in motion and he was jogging down the shady driveway and around the church in an instant. The scene he came across was just about what he had expected. Two smaller boys, one fair, one darker, were well and truly cornered; their backs pressed up against the side of the old building as Dave, ever the hot-head, was attempting to put on a bold front. The older boys, definitely high-school age, had formed a loose semi-circle around them, their de-facto leader tapping a baseball bat menacingly against his thigh. Mason squinted in the dim light, but couldn't identify any of the gang.

// Upper-classmen then or a new gang... I don't think I can bluff my way out of /this/ one... But can I take on a mob? I've never fought more than one... and that was last year... //

"Mason!" Dave's startled shout interrupted the gang leader's current speech and the teenager turned to assess the new arrival. Using his height to his advantage, the baseball player was able to look the older boy in the eye and returned the challenging glare with one of his own. 

"You guys must be from Point Breeze... You students at Farlton High? I don't recognize you." He was confident that his voice would express nothing but bland disinterest, but even so he was a little surprised at how well he suppressed his jitters. He could almost feel his muscles vibrating with tension but his pose remained relaxed and loose. Half of Mason's thoughts seemed to buzz about frantically, torn between the idea that he was in all likely-hood about to receive the beat-down of his life, the other half seemed captivated by the minute details of the scene. He could clearly make out the beads of nervous sweat on Chip's forehead and the blood dripping from his nose and chin, could see the way Dave's fists were clenched- the small tendons standing out from his arms, could hear the breathing of each of the gang members as they looked him over. It was almost dizzying. 

// It's going to be a pathetic fight... but if I can just lure them away... give those two some running room... //

"Who the hell are you? Their big brother or something?" One of the gang kicked some gravel at Chip causing the boy to press harder against the wall. His cringing elicited a chuckle. "What's the matter cry-baby... aren't you going to say hello to your /friend/...?"

The boy looked mutely at Mason, seeming to plead with him to do /something/.

"You assholes! You leave us alone! What the hell did we ever do to /you/?!" Eric's brother showed his mastery of a vocabulary that would likely earn him a mouth-full of soap if his mother found out, however all it gained him now was an ungentle cuff to the head.

"Shut up, Shorty!"

"Hey, leave them alone!" The words fell out of his mouth on pure instinct, and for a moment the ball-player was amazed how quickly the alley got quiet afterwards. The bat-wielding teenager blinked in surprise and then snorted. Three muscled boys were lazily waved forward.

"Get rid of him. 'Gay' and I need to have a little talk..." Mason huffed in frustration as the remainder of the gang simply hung about. It was impossible for the other two to escape. 

// This /isn't/ going to work... I can't take on these jerks /and/ keep that asshole from beating the crap out of the kids... Where the Hell is Mark when I /really/ need him?! I have to get the rest of the gang involved somehow! //

It was simple enough to dodge the first punch, and the second hit glanced across his shoulder. The three boys were crowding each other in their eagerness to tackle him and in a flash of inspiration he was able to use their fumbles to his advantage, dealing out a black eye, a kick to a knee-cap and a punch in the stomach in quick succession before a fist impacted with his chin with jarring force, snapping his head back and causing him to stagger. Things quickly descended into pure mayhem. Off balance and dizzy, Mason received two painful punches to the chest before he was able to wriggle out of the arm-lock of the tallest boy and land a perfect hook right in the already bruised eye. The Italian fell with a satisfying shout. Nearly tripping over the groaning gang member, he turned to 'catch' the tackle aimed at his back and brought his knee up sharply. His efforts brought him another small victory as the crew-cut boy went down clutching his family-jewels and screaming curses as he retched on the grass. Mason had no time to grin at the girlish trick's success, an elbow caught him in the ribs and the blow sent him spinning, gasping for air with a burning chest.

// Ow Ow Ow. Crap! Why are those five just /standing/ there! What do I have to do? Spit on them?! Come on you pricks! Stop staring and come and get me! //

The older students had at least paused their abuse of the younger boys after the first yelp of pain. Now the motley group was simply staring, watching how the fight would play out between Mason and the last of his challengers. The dizziness and pain were slowly being overcome by a giddy rush of adrenaline. The ball-player staggered to face his opponent, and resisted the urge to giggle as he watched the boy wipe the blood from his face. He was certain he could feel a warm wetness creeping down his own chin, the taste of blood was distinctly unpleasant. The larger boy dove in for a tackle, hoping to pin him to the ground. Mason moved on pure instinct. Shifting his weight, and grasping a hold of his attacker's arms, he allowed the blow to carry them both backwards several feet, spinning them as they grappled. With a shout of victory he savagely kicked the older boy back and into the surprised group of high-schoolers. A number of boys, including the leader, went down in a confused heap. 

"Run you twits!" Mason made no attempt to apologize for his harsh command, waving the frozen boys into action with the arm not occupied with clutching his bruised ribs. Not needing further provocation, Dave grabbed his friend's wrist and all but dragged the smaller boy away at a scuttling run. Grinning painfully at his success, the taller boy couldn't hear the rustling behind him over the ringing of his ears. The blow when it came, was exquisitely painful; a wooden bat smacking into his left shoulder and the back of his head, nearly knocking him senseless.

For a dark and starry moment Mason could so nothing but gasp and lay there as the kicks began. Heavy shoes impacted his ribs angrily, attempting to bruise and break. Trying to curl protectively was met with another swing of the bat, as it smacked against his arm with near bone-breaking force. Blinking the grit from his stinging eyes, he was alarmed to note that his eyes had a disturbing tendency to provide double images.

// Shit! They're gonna kill me! // The pain emanating from the back of his bruised skull was incredible. But even so he could still feel the buzzing sensation behind his eyes as it grew more and more intense. // There's no way out of this! What do I do? //

/ First things first. Get up. Now./

// /How/? //

/ When the next kick comes... Roll to the right. Bring your arm up and catch him behind the knee... Now. Pull. Good. /

Mason continued rolling out of the way as he pulled one of his assailants down. The collapsed boy offering an unwilling human shield for him as his friends were slow to realize what had happened. The dark boy found himself on his feet, fists raised and clenched, aching limbs held at the ready.

// I'm gonna die. //

/ No you're not. This fight has only begun. Step one in any combat situation: level the playing field. /

// What does /that/ mean? //

/ It means, we get that bat away from him. / 

Instead of being tense or nervous, Mason found himself feeling more lucid than ever before. It was like all of his senses were geared up for the impending fight, or that time was moving slower. Suddenly the pain and bruises seemed a little less relevant. As if they were acknowledged and noted, then pushed aside in favor of more important things. They were mere factors in strategy for the upcoming fight. The gang members stared at him in confusion, surprised at his sudden re-animation. The lull only served to disorient him further, the dizziness and nausea of a moment before oddly at war with the new sensation of cold fire burning behind his eyes. However with the conflicting sensations came the calm and strength he desperately needed, and he clung to it and the strange voice that flowed from it, with only minimal acknowledgement of the bizarreness of the situation.

// I'm hearing voices... in my head. I'm going crazy... one too many punches and I'm going round the bend. // 

/ Quite Possibly. Better not to think about it now. /

// I don't think I can do this. //

/ You can. I'll help. /

Like the passing of the eye of a hurricane, the calmness was flushed through his body by a wave of pure wild energy. Mason blinked a moment in surprise as his body launched into action and was then lost in it. Not waiting for the five teens to initiate their assault, he plowed straight into their midst, clothes-lining the nearest two and driving the wind out of them. One fell to the ground clutching his throat but was by no means finished. The second had the misfortune of receiving a kneecap to the nose on the way down, and was knocked unconscious.

/ One. /

The ball-player found grace he didn't know he was capable of as he maintained his balance and pulled off a complicated series of punches, back-fisting a new arrival at the same time as deflecting and returning a jab aimed at his kidneys. Another boy was knocked sprawling as the stomach punch connected, this time far more effectively than before. Blood flew as he applied a wide round-house to the remaining opponent's chin. This time when the dreaded bat began its downward arc, he smoothly reached out and caught it; halting its progress. The loud 'smack' echoed oddly in the near-silent clearing. The gang leader was close enough that their panted breaths heated each other's faces. For a timeless instant, something that might have been fear flickered in the brutish teen's eyes. Mason blinked, and the fight resumed its intense pace. His hand and arm were still stinging from the impact of catching the bat and he couldn't feel his fingers tightening around its curve, his wrist giving it a vicious twist, breaking the Italian's grip. The bat almost fell between them, but again the pitcher's reflexes engaged. He caught it vertically, reversing its momentum upwards into the heavier boy's chin. The painful blow served to drive him, clutching his face and spitting blood. 

"You asshole! I'm gonna kill you!"

"You're doing a piss-poor job so far." 

The remaining gang member was frozen in surprise at the rapid decimation of his friends, and suddenly realized he was standing far too close to a /very/ dangerous enemy. His startled expression remained fixed as he was caught by the collar and hauled closer to receive a quick series of jabs to the head. He crumpled to the ground as his eyes rolled back; blood flowing freely from his nose. Mason took a moment to wipe his face. Someone's rings had opened up a series of scratches on his forehead and the salty blood was beginning to irritate his eyes. 

/Two./

His right hand adjusted its grip on the bat automatically as he approached one of his earlier opponents. The teen's addled struggles to rise were brought to an abrupt end with an ungentle tap of the bat to the back of his skull. He went down again, this time twitching.

/ Three. /

Two heavy forms impacted him from behind attempting to take him by surprise. Mason lost his grip on the bat as he was driven to the ground but at the last moment was able to slide his thinner body between his two attackers' and fell on top of them instead of underneath. Carelessly using them as springboards he was up and running after the fleeing leader and two companions before he even consciously realized what they were trying to do. In the distance he could make out the sounds of faint commotion but the blood rushing in his ears soon drowned it out, his attention focused on closer matters. Ignoring the group chasing him, he focused his efforts on keeping anyone from getting away. He wasn't certain why it was so important to him that they be stopped, he just had a unrelenting need to /beat/ them, to show them that they couldn't get away with trying to hurt him or his friends. This would be a fight they'd never forget. 

His stride lengthened into a running tackle, and he deftly caught the lagging seventeen year old ahead of him. Not bothering to break his momentum, Mason caught the boy by a shoulder and roughly spun him with a shove, a second push set him tumbling into the middle of a pair of pursuers and they once again went down in a painful cursing jumble of limbs. The second runner was dealt with by simply plowing him into the church's wall. The boy impacted badly, his head knocking the white painted brick. Dazed, he slid to the ground with a whimper.

/Four./

Mason caught up with the barrel-chested leader at the mouth of the driveway, and tackled him before he could reach the street. They rolled across the grass for a moment before he gained the upper-hand and found himself sitting on the larger boy's chest, fist pulled back, prepared to break his nose. His aim was jarred however when the remaining three boys caught up with him and attempted a football-like Blitz. Elbowing his way out of the pile-up he noted in amusement that the multiple impacts had seemingly knocked the gang boss unconscious.

/ Five. How convenient. /

"Mason?!"

A shout from near by caught his attention at an awkward moment and he was distracted enough that two of the teens attempted to tackle him again. A fist was halted inches from his head as he caught the wrist in a vice-like grip, applying painful pressure as he side-kicked the tattoo-ed boy's legs out from under him. A second kick to the stomach guaranteed that the Italian would stay down. 

/ Six. /

"Mason! All of you! Stop!" He took in the growing crowd as a distant blur as he met the oncoming rush of the last two enraged thugs. A distant part of his mind recognized and made note of the black and white Cadillac with its blinking lights, and the large red-mustached officer bellowing angrily while clutching at a set of twins. Dave and Eric's faces were alight with fierce pride as they watched their team captain. Amongst the small crown he also dimly recognized two lanky men staring at him in undisguised awe but the momentary view was curtailed as he returned to the business at hand. The heady feeling of victory sang in his blood as he sensed the two teenagers charging him, one from each side, hoping to catch him between them. Options were quickly presented and vetoed as they closed the distance, until finally they were in perfect striking range. Had Mason ever been a fan of post-war films celebrating Asia's warrior heritage he might have been able to recognize the motion his body was executing with practiced ease. History was the furthest thing from his mind however as he leapt high into the air and preformed a text-book perfect round-house kick. The taller boy on his right was driven backwards and hit the ground hard several feet away. The one on his left had no time to recover from the stunning blow as Mason's fist arced up the instant his feet hit the ground, delivering a punishing upper-cut that actually lifted the boy off the ground to collapse in a heap a short distance away.

/ Seven, and Eight. That's it. /

// Oh my god I killed him. //

/ No, he's fine. He'll be on a soup diet for a few weeks, but fine. /

// How do /you/ know?! //

/ Long Experience. /

// Oh. //

With the fighting frenzy slowly draining from his body Mason could do nothing but slouch forward into a half crouch, hands braced on his knees, panting for breath. He suddenly felt utterly exhausted. The cool flickering sensation behind his eyes didn't fade however and shaking his head to attempt to clear it inspired a wave of nearly debilitating nausea.

/ Don't do that. You have a concussion. /

// Oh, right. I forgot... wait... Who /are/ you? What are you doing in my head?! //

/ ... /

He could almost taste the presence's discomfort with the question. // I mean, 'Thank's' for the help and all... but are you /real/ ? Like my sister when she 'talks' to me? Or are you a symptom of the concussion...? //

/ I... Don't know... /

// Oh great. //

/ I think perhaps I'm not a 'real' person... But if it makes you feel better... I don't think you're crazy either... /

A touch on his shoulder ended the silent conversation, startling him into awareness of his surroundings. Mason shuddered as a wave of disorientation washed over him and looked up into the worried face belonging to the now supporting hands. Peter was carefully looking him over while holding him upright. Brian crouched, examining one of the fallen boys with concern.

"Jesus Mason, when you dust-it-up, you do a professional job of it... If you'd have hit him any harder you could've really hurt him! Like 'requiring hospitalization' sort of hurt him..."

"You OK kiddo? You looked a little green all of a sudden."

"I..."

"Mason Donnelly! I am positively ashamed of you! Really! Brawling in the street like some /punk/ kid! I must say I'm disappointed! Don't you know that you're a roll model to these younger boys?!" Officer Davis ranted on for a few more lined before he realized that Eric was off kicking one of the groaning teenagers and had to hasten to pull his wayward son away. Several bystanders assisted him in rousing the remaining gang members and calling additional cars to haul them off in. Mason used the brief respite to be quietly and miserably sick behind a bush. The cool energy and calm presence in his head had faded with the last of the adrenaline and the non-combative distractions leaving only the headache and the bruises. The events of the day were beginning to make themselves forcibly known to him.

"I... think Mom's going to kill me..." Wiping the bile away with the back of a dirty hand, he attempted to smile at his own weak joke. It was hampered some what by the fact that his face was beginning to swell.

"That isn't the half of it." Brian murmured as he half-hauled, half-carried the wounded boy to the pickup truck. Mason found himself strapped into the passenger side while the guardian trainee started the grumpy engine. The sound of Peter and the younger boys arguing with the frazzled police-man was nothing but incoherent garble as he rested his head against the cool glass and let his eyes drift shut.

// I'm so tired... //

"Hey! No falling asleep! You got to stick with us for a few hours yet... with as many lumps as your head has, falling asleep now would be a /real/ bad idea... come on Maisie... Stay awake..."

"...You've got to be Kidding..."

"Sorry, kid, but if you go into a coma or something, Mrs. Donnelly will have my liver! Not to /mention/ Kat!"

"What the Hell are you two doing here anyway...?" He struggled to open his eyes, accepting the inevitable. 

"Well we were on our way to your place when that Davis guy peeled out right in front of us, Pete, being the goody-goody that he is, decided to see what was up... Lucky we did, huh?"

"Yeah. Lucky."

"Hey Mas... Can I ask a question?"

"Shoot."

"Who taught you to move like that? When you fought? I mean /somebody/ had to teach you... and here I thought you weren't much of a 'mixer'... Our little Mason, 'Prize-Fighter'!"

"...What? Who taught me /what/?"

"What do you mean 'What?'...? You know, that fight you were just in! The one where you took down eight bruisers from the high school across the tracks! You used some moves that even /I/ would've been hard pressed to copy, and I do that shit for a living! How'd you do it?!"

"I... can't remember..."

"You're Kidding..." Mason lifted his head to give him a blank look. "You're /not/ kidding. Cripes, they really did a number on you... How many fingers am I holding up?" He flashed a 'v' sign and watched in alarm as the boy stared for a long silent moment before blinking and turning away.

"... too many..."

"Cripes. I dunno whether to take you home... or to a hospital..."

"Home first... I promised Davis that we'd be easy to find if he needs Maisie to answer some questions... We'll call the Doc and tell him to hustle over..." Peter hauled himself into the back of the pickup and signaled his friend to gun the engine. Considerate of Mason's still tender stomach, Brian slowly steered for the house.

"Shit man, your mom is going to /flip/..." The statement was nothing more than the truth.

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The entire Donnelly house was thrown into immediate- if hushed- uproar with the truck's arrival. Mason's mother smothered a shriek of dismay at the sight of her battered son supported by the two Guardians. She watched in horror as they positioned him on the couch and then quietly exited to make a panicked call to the doctor. The words "half-dead" and "please hurry" clearly echoed from the kitchen. Mary's expression was fixed in positive amazement as she went about obtaining a basin and washcloths. Mason's father hissed in alarm as the older boys peeled off the torn shirt exposing the damage beneath. His back and chest were covered with dark bruises many of them seeming to hint at damaged bones beneath. 

"What happened?! He left work not an hour ago!"

"He decided today was a good day to play hero..." Peter joked as he worked off the muddy shoes before starting to test the ankles underneath for sprains or worse. Mason hissed in pain.

Brian gave Kathy a reassuring squeeze as she watched the unpleasant inspection continue. She caught her brother's eye only briefly but was immediately worried at the state of his aura. There more to what happened than he was willing to talk about, that much was clear.

// What happened Mason...? //

// I'm... I'm not sure... Too complicated to explain right no- OW! Damnit that Hurt! // His eyes echoed a bone-deep exhaustion in his thoughts. Kathy winced in sympathy with his pain but made no other outward sign of their connection. 

// Later little Bro. We'll talk later... //

"Not so hard!"

"Take it easy!" Strong hands prevented him from jerking his arm away. "We need to know if anything's broken... although for my money I think you should get x-rays... I'm betting at least 3 fractures... the bruising is all wrong here, here and here..." Mason winced at the gentle prodding. "OK... just the skull to go.... then we ought to see if we can't clean you up a bit before the Doc gets here... you're mostly mud I think... thank God none of you had anything too sharp..."

"I don't even want to think about that..." Robert Donnelly gave his son a careful pat on the shoulder and offered him a cup of ice which was gingerly accepted. "Fifteen years and you don't so much as come home with a black-eye... then today I turn my back for a second and you look like the loser at National Boxing Championship... If you're going to start /this/... we'd better show you how it's done..."

"Umm... actually Sir... He /is/ the winner... his photo will probably be in the paper tomorrow..."

Brian snorted in amusement as he daubed at the blood on the teen's forehead. "Yeah something like 'Local Hero Rescues Two Kids From Vicious Italian Mafia' or something... it was incredible, and we only saw the finale... Eight guys... he took out /eight/..."

"And not a bone broken... Well... as far as I can tell..." The older Guardian sat back with a sigh and grabbed the other washcloth from his fiancée.

".../Eight/?!" Mason eyed his father warily as the man sat back in shock, whistling in amazement. There was a wet splash as his mother dropped a bowl of water in the doorway. Her mouth worked silent for a moment as she stared at the assorted grinning men in the room and then at her dazed son.

"...You... I... You MEN! He could've been KILLED! IDIOTS!"

"Mom... calm down... " Her daughters glared at their significant others before herding the hysterical woman back into the kitchen. Mopping up the water Kathy couldn't help but note her father was staring at Mason and the two Guardians almost speculatively. Any further conversation however was promptly curtailed by the arrival of Doctor Stevens. 

"Dear Lord. He looks like all he's missing is the meat tenderizer! No wonder Susan was besides herself. Well now... I hope you gave as good as you got young man..."

"He did... apparently with interest..." Robert was feeling quite decidedly in need of a drink as the implications continued to sink in. On top of all the excitement in his usually quiet home, he could almost feel the fibers of 'Potential' weaving through the room. He was a mediocre mage at best, but what he could do, he did well, and when his precognition was being cooperative he'd been known to make the occasional prediction. He hadn't felt his gift react so strongly to something in years, not since his youngest daughter was born. Mason had ever been a most magically unremarkable child, but now it seemed that was about to change. Something terribly important had just happened, or was about to; it was hard to be certain. Still, the energy level was high enough that he felt a headache coming on. His wife stared in amazement as he went to the cupboard to pour a drink. Shrugging in defeat, he poured her one too, and sat a moment with her at the kitchen table. 

"Don't take it too hard, Love... He's not a child anymore... This sort of thing was bound to happen eventually. Better that he work it out of his system /early/ hmmm?"

"That's /not/ what I'm mad about..." Her angry huffs would inevitably reduce to tears later but for now more closely resembled hiccups. She sipped the drink. "Listen to /them/... gushing on about him... as if he's some sort of prodigy! For /brawling/! What sort of /stupidity/... that boy... that boy is /grounded/... for /life/! Idiot Guardians... Why couldn't the girls find /normal/ boys to settle down with..."

Robert shrugged again and patted her hand. "... They're not precisely /normal/ girls, Dear... the peril of marrying a mage and all... and you have to admit... our boy is quite a scrapper! Like you said... he might have been /really/ hurt, but he wasn't! And from the sound of it... he did the only thing he could. Idiotic perhaps, but brave, and very selfless. Don't be too hard on him..."

"I /don't/ want them /encouraging/ him, Robert... He's not /one of them/... He's going to have a /normal/ life! Make them understand that..."

He shook his head in regret at her anxiety. Now was not the time to tell her about his developing hunches. Mason's father rinsed out his glass and wandered back into the living room in time to assist the doctor in transferring his son to the bedroom and hear the final prognosis.

------------------------------------------------

Bolstered at nearly a forty-five degree angle by a mass of pillows, Mason lethargically allowed himself to be tucked into bed. He had been poked and prodded a second time which had only added to his irritation, but as a benefit, the family doctor had decided that enough time had elapsed since the fight that a brief nap might be permissible. If all went well, he wouldn't have to be taken to the hospital. The dark-haired boy closed his eyes in relief, ignoring the murmured conversation between father and doctor. Idly drifting before dozing off, he explored the corner of his mind from where the strange voice had arose earlier. Somehow the more he tried to focus on it, the harder it was to concentrate. Finally, surrendering to his exhaustion he dismissed the whole thing as a bizarre hallucination and drifted off to sleep.

------------------------------------------------

"He'll need to be woken up every hour for the first three... If he responds well, then go ahead and let him sleep longer. Try waking him every three hours... Have your Guardians help out, they probably have personal experience with it after all." The doctor laughed at Brian's sour face. "Keep him prone... force fluids. Take him to the hospital immediately if he gets worse. I'll come over tomorrow and check on him."

Robert watched his resting son with worry, but Mary had already claimed the first watch and was vigorously 'shoo'ing Peter away. Motioning the two younger men down stairs, they and Kathy retreated into the small 'study' next to the living room. His wife had long since retreated to their room to have a good cry. 

"Well then... /This/ has been an exciting evening... So might as well hear the rest of it... What precisely did he do? I want to hear all of it." His daughter quietly rose and came back bearing a armful of beer bottles. Everyone silently helped themselves to one, Kathy wordlessly meeting her father's challenging look. 

"Did you see his aura, Dad?"

"No."

"I did." Peter took a swig of the cool liquid. "You think it was bad now? You should've seen it when he was fighting... It was..."

"... Bloody terrifying." Brian finished for him. Meeting his girlfriend's curious stare, he shrugged. "What, just because I can't 'see' things, doesn't mean I can't feel them... All I'm saying is that he had my Guardian Senses shrieking like a fire truck on the way to a four-alarm blaze... If I was ever in situation where I was fighting someone with an aura like that... you'd better believe I'd be looking for a tree to climb."

Seeing Robert's confused look, Peter tried to explain his friend's ranting. "He... well first of all... even beaten bloody, his form was... well... /perfect/. I really think the only thing that made some of his combos non-lethal was that he simply doesn't have the weight yet to give them the necessary force. Then again I could be wrong..."

"I still say he was pulling his punches."

"Shut up, Bri."

"Yessir."

"...And you two didn't show him how to do that?" Mason's father rubbed his forehead thoughtfully as the two men vehemently shook their heads in denial. 

"Not us! I mean first of all... he's never seemed remotely interested! And second... well... he's way too young... I mean, we only /started/ training when we were fourteen... and some of the moves he pulled... well... they were 'advanced'... or /better/..."

"...Enough... back to his aura..." Robert saw his daughter nod in agreement.

Shooting Brian a quelling look, the older boy picked up the narrative again. His eyes distant as he carefully chose his words. "He didn't /feel/ like Mason... But no, that's not quite right... he /was/ Mason... but there was a whole Hell of a lot of 'something /else/' there too... And Bri was right... whatever or /whoever/ that was... it was... intimidating. Odd thing was... as soon as the fight was over... it just sort of... went away... I tried looking for some sign of it when I was checking his bones... but there was nothing... nothing out of place at all..."

The young woman nodded thoughtfully. "He seemed OK... But Dead-Tired, and something really rattled him... Either the fight, or something else, I'm not sure... but he's changed Dad. You can feel it, right? It's almost like a feeling of..."

"Anticipation." Her father mused. "It's been years since I've done a good tarot reading... but I have the feeling that when Mason wakes up, maybe I should give it a go... Forewarned is fore-armed... and all that... I've got a feeling..." He trailed off, uncertain he wanted to finish the sentence. "Ah well, it'll wait. It's late. You two can crash in the living room for the night, wake me when it's my turn to watch our 'sleeping beauty'. I'm off to keep your mother from throwing flowerpots..."

"Yessir."

"Good night Dad."

------------------------------------------------

Mason was getting seriously peeved. Every time he settled down for the sleep he desperately craved, it seemed that not five minutes later he was being gently but persistently shaken awake. The fact that those determined individuals did it /repeatedly/ and then had the audacity to attempt to ply him with water as well, only made him more surly. Sympathetic hands re-tucked him into bed for the umpteenth time and grumbling loudly he took the chance and drifted back into sweet slumber. Maybe, /just maybe/ they'd finally get a clue and realize that he was fine, and would do better with a bit more uninterrupted sleep. 

It wasn't until well past mid-morning and the visit from the doctor, that he seemed to be granted his wish. The dark-haired boy didn't bother to stay awake for anything after the "He seems fine now," opting to get a head start on his long delayed rest. The others apparently agreed with his choice at first as for the first time in hours he was allowed to rest on his own and undisturbed; or so he thought. An uncertain amount of time later, he felt a gentle pair of hands give his shoulders a small shake. 

------------------------------------------------

"Wakey, wakey..." 

// Oh /come/ /on/... I'm /tired/...Let me /sleep/... // 

His grumbles must have been at least slightly audible, as the shaking paused a moment before resuming with a soft chuckle.

"Come on, you... You can't be /that/ tired... You've been sleeping for /hours/..." Mason grumbled again, flatly refusing to open his eyes, doing his best to ignore the amused whisper in his ear. His sister was cruel to wake him so soon.

// Go away Kathy... I'm sleeping... I'm dead... I /don't/ /care/ but I'm /not/ waking up any further than I have to... //

"You refuse to wake up?" The voice, a little louder now was oddly unfamiliar. Its smooth tones heavily laden with an innocent-sounding teasing. 

// Who the Hell? What do those two jokers think that they're doing... don't they know it's not nice to mess with a sick-person's head? // Still, the voice didn't /sound/ like either of the two Guardians; and the hands that caressed from his shoulders down his arms and back again, certainly weren't theirs. There was something achingly familiar about the touch, /and/ the voice. Curious, Mason surreptitiously cracked an eye open. 

"I bet I can think of something that'll wake you..." 

A warm weight suddenly settled across his stomach. Mason felt himself tense a moment in anticipation of the pain, but there was none. Somehow his bruises were gone. He was also /very/ aware that /someone/ was now happily sitting on his abdomen, working their hands under his shirt.

// But I wasn't wearing a... Hey! // He gave up any pretense of feigning sleep as slender fingers began to tickle his ribs. Opening his eyes, Mason found himself momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight pouring through the partly-open french doors. The breeze blowing gently through the room had a distinct flavor of brine. 

// French... Doors...? Ocean...? Oh Crap. I'm /dreaming/ aren't I... But I can 'hear' things...? Does that mean that... // The body on top of his shifted a little its shadow covering his face as he blinked stupidly, forcing his eyes to cooperate. The face, back-lit by the bright light was at first difficult to distinguish, nothing but shadowy hints surrounded by a halo of pale golden fire. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the breathtaking view.

"You..." His voice sounded strange in his ears. The mischievous blonde straddling his chest flashed a saucy smile. 

"Who... Me? Of course /me/.... who else?!" He mock-pouted. "Unless there /is/ someone else... but you wouldn't dare." The smile returned.

"No... I... umm..." Mason found himself completely at a loss for words, too busy staring at the lithe form draped on top of him to form proper sentences. The slight man's hair was in a whimsical tousle as he leaned closer. His loose silk shirt would occasionally catch pieces of the breeze, fluttering against his now-exposed chest with feathery touches. Deft fingers undid the last of the buttons and promptly pressed themselves against his skin. Mason felt certain his heart would leap out of his chest. 

" No... you wouldn't... I know that... You're really quite addled... You never take this long to wake up! That fight took more out of you than I thought! Are you alright?" Seemingly unable to stay still for long, one of the long-fingered hands trailed up to caress his face while the other slipped between his arm and chest, bringing them into a loose embrace.

// Fight? He knows about the fight?! Impossible, he must mean something that happened to /this/ me... not the real me... // Mason resisted the urge to pull back in shock, but soon realized he needn't have bothered. His now-adult arms were curling of their own will to draw the mage in closer, his lips forming a response.

"I'm fine... Banged around a bit... but fine. Nothing that a little sleep won't fix." 

"Yes... well... I did let you collapse for a decent piece of time... but then I got lonely watching you snore..."

"Bored you mean." Mason was amazed how easily his responses came. This time it didn't bother him that he couldn't actively dictate how the dream went. He was tired enough to simply allow himself to be apart of it, and he immersed himself deeper into the 'role'. It felt /right/ to banter with the mage, to hold him close and allow him to trail gentle kisses down the side of his neck. He shivered in delight as the seemingly-chaste touches slowly became more passionate, working their way down to his collarbone to delve wetly into the hollow at the base of his throat and come back up the other side to nuzzle and nip his ear. 

"'Bored' is such a unromantic way of saying it... but I suppose it's better than the alternatives..." Warm breath tickled his cheek and needing more, Mason caught his lover's face between his hands and pulled him down for deep kiss. 

"What... like 'Randy'? or 'Over-Sexed'?" He continued to kiss the eager mouth grinning as he felt the hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. The blonde was now bodily pressed against him in a sensual sprawl.

"You make it sound like a /bad/ thing... I don't hear /you/ complaining..."

"Oh I'm not... believe me..." Narrow hips gently ground against his as a reward for his agreement. Disentangling his hands from the blankets and shirt-sleeves, Mason ran them possessively along his mage's sides; pulling him closer. "You're /mine/..." It came out almost a growl as the kisses intensified, the blonde fumbling in haste to discard his shirt.

"Good... So... feeling awake yet?" Mason rolled his eyes at the teasing tone and pressed his now eager erection against his lover's.

"What do /you/ think...?" 

Grey eyes crinkled merrily as they studied him, the full lips unsuccessfully concealing a smile. "I think..." He drew the pause out melodramatically. "/I/ think... I should leave you here to suffer... being that you /have/ been happily ignoring me and snoring away these many hours... " 

"Oh that's Hardly fair!"

"Who ever said life is /fair/?" The blonde was now laughing at Mason's comically hurt expression. "Oh don't look like that... " Mason assumed an even more pathetically puppy-like face, looking as down-trodden as possible. "Oh /that's/ Rich... trying to make /me/ feel guilty..." The slender man studied him a moment longer before returning to his earlier ministrations to his neck and jaw-line.

He gave up making faces and pulled the mage closer, pinning him by the waist. "Very well then, what if I refuse to let you go?"

"Well... You're certainly a lot bigger than I am..." The blonde wriggled a little so as to move on to his chest. Mason murmured his agreement both with the statement and the actions. His hands unable to stop touching his wily love. "And you're stronger too..." Slim hands ran appreciatively over his abdomen, eliciting another moan from the larger man. "I guess if you /did/ do that... I'd be rather stuck! Oh dear oh dear... What ever shall I do..." The hands continued their downward exploration causing Mason to bite his lip to keep from shouting. 

"Please don't tease... Not today... God it's been so Lon- /Oh Yes/" His eyes nearly rolled back as the hot pleasure raced through his blood from its origin between his legs. The blonde was doing terrible, wicked, wonderful things with his mouth, and doing them /very/ well. It was paradise. He weakened for a moment, delighting in the intense feelings before finally coaxing the smaller man higher- back against his chest- covering him in kisses. 

"Did I do something wrong?" Ageless eyes eventually opened to meet his in confusion. The pale cheeks were flushed.

"Hardly. But it wouldn't be exactly fair to lay there and let you do all the work... I still owe you for /something/, I'm sure... "

A blonde eyebrow arched sharply in amusement. "I see... so what do you .../suggest/?"

"Well... What do you /want/?"

"Oh that's /easy/. /You/." Mason rolled them over with a soft laugh and began to love the blonde in earnest.

------------------------------------------------

Late afternoon seemed determined to seep through his eyelashes as he attempted to burrow deeper into the pillows. He was more than willing to stay in bed, feelings of comfort and languid arousal slowly working their way through his body. All he wanted to do was roll over and kiss his blonde lover awake, maybe to have a lazy encore of their tryst earlier. Mason found that he simply couldn't get enough of the man. However as a hand blindly stretched out to pat the bed, a number of incongruities began to add up. First and foremost, he /hurt/. Biting down on a whimper, Mason cracked an eyelid, confirming his suspicions. The angle was completely wrong, he was nearly sitting-up from all the pillows, but his room was unmistakable. 

// I'm... awake...? shit. // 

For a moment he closed his eyes, trying to summon sleep and return to the unbearably beautiful dream. His body was resolutely awake however, and slowly, different portions of him began to report in. One of his ankles felt decidedly stiff, and twinged when he tried to shift it, the same could be said for his wrist. Struggling briefly with the quilts he discovered that his torso was a mass of bruises, many of them already shrinking, leaving ugly yellow edges.

"Yeeeesh."

The befuddled boy froze a moment at the sound of his voice, so much higher and hoarser than it had been in his dream. It didn't seem to belong to him at all. The bizarre detached sensation passed however, and he found himself facing a new problem. The shifting pressure of the quilts was only serving to encourage his already energetic hard-on. Mason winced and glanced around the room, thankfully alone. Reaching a tentative hand into his shorts, the sticky wetness he encountered more than confirmed what he already knew, last night had been a /very/ 'energetic' one. 

// Awe jeez... // Resisting the strong temptation to touch himself, he carefully wiped his fingers on his boxers and tried to focus. He lay quietly, listening to the house, but it was perfectly silent. 

// Weird... Where is everyone? //

Shifting in the bed helped to alleviate the pins-and-needles that were beginning in his left foot, but left him gasping. The pain in his ribs was somehow ignore-able when compared to the desperate aching between his legs. Every movement made him feel as though he were about to explode. Mason closed his eyes and breathed deeply, cursing himself.

// I /won't/... I /won't/ jerk-off in broad daylight... not /here/. Think of something /else/! Come on! //

He tried for several minutes to no avail. It was like trying not to scratch a particularly irritating itch. His treacherous body's cravings caused him to tremble. Clutching his sheets to keep his hands from disobeying, the ball-player resolutely pushed the memories away, trying to not think too hard about the way his dream-lover had applied gentle nips down his chest to then go lower. 

// We never went that /far/ before... or at least /I/ never did. I always woke up right before it got good... not like /this/! I can't believe he did /that/... with his mouth... to /me/... and then /I/... /into/ him... it felt... Nonono... bad idea... /don't/ think about that... God I need a cold shower. A /long/ one. // 

Mission decided, Mason began the slow process of figuring out how to get out of bed. Uncertain if he'd even be able to stand, he tentatively sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His right ankle complained loudly, but seemed to support his weight as he staggered to the dresser.

// Clothes... then towel... then bathroom... come on Mason, you can do it... Thank god I only made a mess /inside/ my boxers. // He deliberately /didn't/ allow himself to think of how uncomfortable it was to limp around in sticky shorts. There was enough to worry about.

// Why me. //

The bathroom door shut with a quite 'click' and he sighed in relief. The house was still dead silent. Too groggy to worry too much about it, he began the painful process of stripping off his clothes, dumping them in a small pile to be dealt with later. Then he sat on the edge of the tub to unravel the ace-bandages on his wrist and ankle. It only took a moment or two of running the cold water over his hand to make him change his mind.

// Shit that's cold! hot shower hot showers hot shower, to Hell with the consequences... // 

Not feeling stable enough to stand, he surrendered his pride and sat on the floor of the tub, letting the warm stream of water beat down on his aching muscles. It hurt, but in a good way. Mason closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment, half expecting the door to be beaten down with a worried shout when they discovered him not in bed. After a few minutes however, he accepted the fact that he was alone for at least a little while, and surrendering to temptation, decided to make the most of it. 

------------------------------------------------

The shower seemed to do a lot more than merely wake him up, giving him back energy and clearing his head. His blood was still buzzing from the after effects of the hurried but powerful climax as he toweled off and set about giving himself a once over. Now fully awake, he was amazed at how little he hurt.

// How long have I been asleep? It can't be more than a day... I know I'm a fast healer... but this is amazing! Maybe it just /looked/ worse than it was... who knows. // Carefully washing the evidence of his embarrassing night away in the sink, he tottered back to his room to hang the damp shorts in the closet to dry. The teenager gave his rumpled bed a surly glare before slowly making his way down stairs in search of food.

// It's Saturday? Or did I sleep straight into Sunday? Oh Hell! The Picnic! It /must/ be Sunday... but they can't have left me alone... Mom would sooner burn the house down. //

Still, he made in into the kitchen without seeing a soul. He was starting to get worried. It wasn't until he cracked the fridge door to pull out the orange juice that the answer presented itself. The back door was open, its screen door letting in the summer breeze. From just outside he could faintly make out the creaking of the porch swing. 

// What the... //

Mason snagged the plate of leftover sausages from the top shelf and shuffled curiously towards the sunny entrance, gingerly chewing the cold meat with his sore jaw. He peered through the screen, blushed, then had the presence of mind to cough softly. The kissing couple pulled apart with an embarrassed yelp. 

"MASON!" Mary's face was beat red as she all but fell off the love-seat sized swing. Her fiancé simply started to laugh. "It's /not/ funny! Pete! We were /supposed/ to be /watching/ him!"

"He looks fine to me..."

"How long have you been awake! You shouldn't be up! Why are you wet?! Don't tell me that you took a bath all by yourself! What if you had slipped and cracked your head again!"

"Huh?" 

"Leave him be Mary... Jeez, you're only confusing him... Sit down, Mason. I'll make you a sandwich."

When the rest of the family returned from church, they found him happily ensconced on the couch, working through a large rootbeer and his second ham sandwich. By unspoken agreement sister and brother made no mention of circumstances of his waking. Mason's mother made a fuss about his being out of bed, but was calmed some what by his willingness to stay put on the couch. After checking him over for the third time, she relented and went to call the doctor. He sighed in relief, but was soon obliged to be on guard again as the rest of his family descended on him silently. Mason's father looked uncharacteristically serious as he sat beside his son on the couch. The Guardians and Kathy took up perches near by.

"So... how are you feeling?"

Mason returned his father's searching look with a blank one. "...fine?" Something weird was going on.

Robert rubbed his forehead in fatigue. "You gave us a bit of a scare there son... I know you're just barely up and about, but I've talked to the others... and now I want to talk to you, think you're up to it?" He gave a worried smile.

"Talk?" Mason shot his sister a curious glance, her sudden blush did not bode well. "Talk about what?"

"The /fight/, Mason."

"Oh." He hesitated a moment, not liking to admit weakness, but eventually relented. "I... I don't remember that much, Dad... It's all a rather big blur... "

"Yes, I was expecting that, to tell the truth. But Mason, these three here are convinced, as am I, that /something/ happened on Friday... Something... abnormal..." He paused in his round-about explanation as his wife bustled back into the living room. 

"I made ice tea..." Mason's mother glanced around the suddenly innocent-looking group suspiciously. "...What?"

Her husband smiled cheerfully. "I was just thinking, maybe we should have Mason's favorite for dinner tonight... encourage him to get well... what do you think, love?"

Certain that she was missing something, she paused to consider the idea. "Well... it's a little late to defrost the chicken in the freezer... and I'll have to run to the store to get more potatoes... but it could be done. Would you like that Mason?"

He didn't have to be prompted to make affirmative noises. Mary was ungently prodded by her sister and volunteered to help. The two women bustled in the kitchen then left for the market.

Brian grinned. "Very smooth, Mr. Donnelly."

"Hush Bri."

Mason's father merely sighed as his daughter scolded the younger Guardian. It was the other man who got the ball rolling. 

"So... we got to talking today... about things... and /you/... and looking back a bit, I'm frankly surprised we didn't see this coming. I mean, the four of us were able to put together quite a list of hair-brained heroics that you've pulled in the last 4 years alone..."

"What do you mean? I don't get into fights!"

"Not fights, Maisie... remember last spring when Sara's cat was up a tree? You didn't even think twice before going up there... Stuff like that."

"That was easy!"

"And that kid who almost got hit by a car?"

Mason rubbed his head in exasperation. "Ok, /that/ was dumb... But there wasn't time to think of a better way... not like anyone was hurt."

"You didn't tell /us/ about that one..." His father grumbled.

"I didn't want to scare Mom..."

Kathy shook her head. "I think she's going to be upset with things no matter what at this point."

"Anyway... it seems with all the mages in my little family... I have been thoroughly overlooking something of a child prodigy right under my nose." Mason shrugged off the gentle noogie, embarrassed.

"It's not like that... I just... If I see someone that needs help, I just sort of /do/ it... it's not like I really think about it much."

Brian continued to smile. "Hey Pete... sound like anyone we know...?"

"Shut up. Junior."

"Yeah, yeah... So... Mason... Have you ever given much thought to what you want to be when you grow up? Or maybe 'old' is a better word... you're already more mature than most of my friends..."

"What I'm going to 'be'? What... aside from 'Rookie of the Year'?" The teenager joked.

"He's got you there Brian... Baseball players probably make more than we do..."

"Nah, that's only because you and I are tier 2... a top-ranked Guardian makes /way/ more... hell, even /we/ could make /way/ more... if we partnered with the 'right' mages."

"Wait... hold /on/ guys..." Mason almost laughed in surprise. "Are you telling me you want me to be a Guardian?" The older boys nodded in unison. "And /you're/ OK with this?!" His father gave a small shrug.

"It's up to you, son. I have to admit, these two made some fairly compelling arguments for you receiving training at the least. You don't have to make a living as a bodyguard if you don't want to... but you're certainly talented enough that I would encourage you if you wanted lessons..."

"Really...? What about Mom...?" The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"I... haven't yet brought the idea up with her yet... I figured... best to see what you thought of it before letting /that/ cat out of the bag..."

"Oh." 

The group stared at each other for a moment before Kathy decided it was her turn. "I think you should." He looked up in surprise. "Maisie, this could be your big chance... you could stop 'pretending' to be normal... and just be what you are! You... you're destined for bigger things... your /dreams/... "

"/Kathy/!" He stared at her in alarm, unable to believe she would simply blurt out something he had told her in secret. 

" I already told Dad."

"You WHAT?"

His father placed a calming hand on his shoulder. The Guardians took the hint and ducked out of the room, flashing encouraging smiles as they left. "She didn't give me any details, Mason... Kathy just felt that things were getting out of control perhaps... she was worried that you seemed to be getting more affected by them..."

"It's been going on for too long... It /means/ something!"

"Yeah, it means that I'm going to have some medical-mage poking around the inside of my head and writing a text-book about me! No Thanks!"

"Have you ever considered that dreaming of being a Guardian might be a hint?"

"Pretty /heavy/ handed hint, Dad... Kathy, what /exactly/ did you tell him...?"

"Nothing!" She squirmed in her chair. "Well nothing too private anyway... that wouldn't have been fair... Just that you had dreams where you were a Guardian, and that they were of wars and things..."

Mason was a little alarmed by his father's thoughtful look. "Could be a parable... could be a past life... could be some sort of convergence of realities... but no matter. Mason, can you tell the difference between things that happen in dreams and things that happen when you're awake...?"

His son sighed. "Yes, Dad..."

"Good. When Kathy said you had dreams like that... for a while I was worried that maybe /that/ was why you fought the way you did...if you forgot where you were... what you were doing... it could be dangerous..."

"Yes, Dad... I mean, No Dad... I knew what I was doing... I just... don't know /how/ I knew..."

Kathy giggled as he attempted to unravel the appropriate response. "Tell him about your idea Dad..."

Mason's father perked up noticeably, although he looked a little nervous. "The other night... I had a bit of an idea... I though maybe it'd help you put things in prospective... if I did a quick tarot reading? Not that you /need/ one... and you shouldn't decide based on that /alone/...but sometimes they offer surprising insight..."

"... ok." Mason was certain his father had expected him to put up more of a fight, but oddly the idea seemed as valid as any other. He was fairly sure what his answer would be already, but he was curious to see what 'the fates' thought of the idea.

// Me... a Guardian... for real? Is that what this is all about? It seems too simple an answer... Will the dreams stop once I start training? Or will it only get more confusing as real life and dreams start to get closer... //

He silently watched his father pull a well worn deck of cards out of their hiding place in his desk.

// The question isn't, 'Do I want to be a Guardian?'... it never was... the question was...'Was I ever going to be anything else?' All this time... I've just been waiting... but waiting for /what/.../this/? //

Kathy adjusted her perch on the chair, watching silently as their father cleared a space on the table and quietly shuffled some cards out of the deck. Never much of a showman, he made little production of the rituals and at length passed his son a small stack of thick cards. 

"Right, this is where you pick your card... Try not to think to hard about it, just focus on your desire to be enlightened as to the future... and pull out the one that seems to speak to you, as I recall... last time it was 'The Fool' wasn't it? You always liked that one as a child..."

"We haven't done this in /years/ Dad..."

"Well... we never needed to... You always seemed so sure of where you were going... but children often are..."

Mason snorted gently at the absent-minded commentary and slowly flipped through the colorful Royals. Cups, Pentacles, Swords, he paused briefly at the sight of the Knight of Swords, something in the painted figure's eyes seeming to call to him. The feeling was wrong though, a nervous worrying sort of sensation, he flipped the card over and continued through the stack. None of the cards seemed to quite match his mood. 

// I just want to know /why/... Who /was/ he... Is he alive? Is he someone new now? Does he dream of my like I dream of him...? I just... feel so empty. //

He paused, considering the last card in his hands. The King of Wands, unlike the other kings, did not stare with cool assurance out from the thick paper. If anything the robed-man looked tired, and a little sad. The regal face was turned away, into the card, as if he was looking behind him for someone. He was waiting. Mason felt his lips curl into a small smile as he placed the card in front of his curious father. 

"This one? Interesting... A card for 'desire'... or 'longing' rather... The King of Wands is known to be a conscientious sort of person... active, thoughtful, and openly giving of himself. A fair card for you, Mason." He smiled at his son's bewildered expression. "It has an addtional meaning though... not as popular perhaps but sometimes, people say that this card can hint at 'unexpected inheritances'..."

"What like a long lost Aunt leaving you money?"

"Sometimes... or perhaps reunion with missing loved ones... or a hereditary gift..."

"There aren't any Guardians in our family, Dad..."

"I know I know..." Robert shuffled the remaining cards back into the deck. "But it /is/ a thoughtful sort of card... pensive almost, don't you think?"

"I guess." Mason shot his sister a look as she suppressed a giggle. The Celtic cross slowly took form on the coffee table, his father laying the cards down with practiced movements. They sat in silence for a moment as he reflected on the spread for a moment then smiled whimsically.

"Well... this is... not bad..." He sounded almost surprised. "A bit of a muddle in places... but let's see where this goes..." The teenager edged closer to the table to watch his father work. A rough but steady finger pointed to the first card of the pattern. The man's voice taking on an almost sing-song quality as he recited the long remembered phrases. "The 'Two of Wands'. This is where we are /now/ how you feel, where you stand. An awkward sort of card, full of restlessness and uncertainty. You are looking for your path but aren't sure where to find it... seems good so far..." His father smiled a little. "Nothing to surprising for a teenager... the second card... this shows some of the things troubling you at present, things that may stand in your way... But see? 'The Chariot' is reversed... also not a generally happy situation. That's a sign of imbalance, and wavering self control... excessive force. This is hinting at your fight perhaps... Also seems pretty accurate..." He cleared his throat and gave his son a meaningful look.

Mason simply shrugged and nodded for his father to continue. The older man nudged the next card. "This is a funny one... it represents the feelings behind this spread... We ask it what will happen in the future... and it gives us a straight answer... 'Change' ...Big change... or So says the 'Wheel of Fortune'... But again, for a young person, this isn't that unheard of I think..." He thought for a minute. "You're beginning to understand yourself better... are better able to identify your goals... the next... 'The Eight of Wands'... also reversed." Kathy arched an eyebrow in silent agreement with the card. "This says, you've been feeling impatient with yourself lately... you've been waiting... and now want to act. You're ready to make a decision."

"We know all this already, Dad..."

"Be patient! This is the 'past' still... we're about to get to the 'good stuff'... hold on!"

"Huh."

"Oh you doubt your father? Well look at /this/! Fifth card! 'The Magician'! Your possible future! /That/'s pretty interesting, huh?" He sighed at his son's blank look. "It means you're going to be learning many new things... Having new experiences! Then again, it might also be referring to a person... a mage perhaps? I feel... yes, a person... someone special, eloquent, educated, a teacher maybe...? or a Bard... But I can't tell if this person is your goal, or simply a friend you meet along the way... /curious/..." Robert gave his son a knowing look. The teenager simply blew at his bangs in frustration. "Ok, OK, I know /that/ look... I'll hurry up. Here, 'The Knight of Cups', a card of belief, this says... you'll be taking a journey... probably a long one... and it will be because of, or lead you to, someone very important to you... your 'teacher' perhaps. And here... 'The Eight of Swords'... this card says... you're afraid of repeating past failures... odd. You need to be careful of putting yourself in situations where others can control your actions, to ensnare you... And here again, the same warning in 'The Nine of Swords'... Don't let your family or friends rule you... you would do well you rely on yourself, others will try to manipulate you, make you feel shame or sorrow, but you are compassionate and patient... you do not let nightmares sway you."

"Nightmares...?" Mason blinked in surprise.

"Yes... it's is a tempestuous card... rough seas ahead... Not surprising seeing how your mother will react if she comes home to find us doing this..." Mason winced at his father's sickly grin. The man glanced out the window and began to talk a little faster. "The ninth card, symbolizing your goal, your hopes and desires... 'The Knight of Swords'. It's a powerful card, if not a particularly cheerful one... Well... you're traveling again... could be worse... This is a card of 'knowledge'... For me it is less what you will do, so much as what you will become, logical, wise, a leader when you need to be... all those traits you have inside you, they'll become stronger... but you're cautious, always so very cautious... you're afraid of loosing your hard won prizes..."

"...Great... So far all I know is that people are going to be out to get me... and I'm going to be doing a lot of walking..."

"Hey, it happens... besides... here's the clincher! And I must say... I'm rather glad to see it... After all this muddle, the searching, the fighting, the craziness ahead... at the end, there's /this/." He jabbed the card gleefully.

" 'Nine of Cups'...? What's so great about that..."

"Idiot! It represents, great happiness! A 'perfect love'... don't screw up, and you'll get the one thing your heart desires..."

"Huh," Mason raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "What's the catch?"

His father grinned. "Wise boy... The 'catch' is... it may be only temporary... You'll reach your 'grail'... but it may not be up to you to decide if what you hold in your hands is 'forever' or something more fragile..."

"That's stupid! After all that work?! "

"The future makes no guarantees, Mason." His father sighed and quickly began to gather the cards. A car was pulling into the driveway.

"Besides, maybe your 'fairy princess' will have bad breath or something... then you'll /want/ to leave..."

"Kathy..." Mason's growl was ignored as the girl flounced over to the door and abruptly pulled it open, two Guardians tumbled onto the living room floor in a heap.

"I /thought/ so... jerks! Readings are supposed to be /private/." She nudged the groaning men with her toe. "Pull yourselves together before Mom sees you. Dad... better hide the cards..."

"Ow..."

"Right right..."

Mason resumed his former spot on the couch as the other two men fought over the remote. His eldest sister slid through the door with the first bag of groceries.

"...So... Did I buy you enough time?"

Kathy blinked in surprise. "How did you know we were..."

"Hello... just because I'm older doesn't mean I'm senile... besides, " she grinned. "Peter hinted you guys would need some 'discussion' time with the brat when he woke up..."

"Oi..." Both girls turned and stuck their tongues out at their brother. Mason shrugged in defeat. Between the following bustling of dinner, and the game on TV, he was pretty much left alone to think. In the end, it wasn't a hard decision to make. It never had been a decision at all. He nudged a dozing Brian.

"Wake up."

"Unnn?" The Trainee blinked a moment before pulling himself together. "What."

"Why did you decide to be a Guardian?"

"To defend the innocent, right wrongs, and give charitably at Christmas. Oh yeah, and to 'Save the World'..." The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes at the pretentious answer. "Oh, you wanted the /real/ reason...? Well that's easy! To get laid by beautiful, hedonistic mage girls every day of my life and drive wicked cool cars..."

"Closer... but I still don't believe you." 

"Fine... Honestly...? Because I'm good at it... I mean, I have the skill... I don't mind the danger... and really, I wouldn't be happy in an ordinary job... or at least that's what I thought before meeting Kat... now all that's rather up in the air isn't it..." Brian scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I started... I think for a lot of the same reasons that you're going to... because I help people... and I'm going to keep doing those crazy stunts with or without the pay... and if that's the case... well... the money couldn't hurt... right?" He grinned. "... Besides, there's something to be said about wanting to protect the people you care for..."

He was surprised at how the younger man seemed to jump at the words, a strangely haunted look in his eyes.

"...What... I can be serious too you know...Pete doesn't have the corner on the market quite yet..."

Mason blinked and shook his head. "No... it's not that... just what you said... it reminded me of something..." He fell into a thoughtful silence as the commercials flickered and shouted their slogans.

"... Brian...?"

"... yeah?..."

"I want to be a Guardian."

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notes: Well... here is a beast of a chapter! Well no, not really, it's just the length I like'em... under 50 pages... ^_^ (sigh) So... Once again I'll state, this is an AU fic, and something of a crossover to boot. If you want to know what the deal with mages and Guardians and all that fun stuff is... well then! Cruise on over to http://www.msu.edu/user/strampe2/NewFiles/academy.html and see what Twig has to say about them, she invented the universe, I add to it... it is a good system. We like it just fine. For more gratuitious tarot fun try www.facade.com it's full of goodies. Although if Mason's reading had been any more explicit it would have punched him in the nose. "Get thee a Mage! And make him a Blonde Bishonen who likes to hum!" Or something. Whee I'm so glad this story is started. The chapter may not be my best, but it has it's moments, and frankly, that's good enough for me. Stay tuned for the next installment, where Mason realizes that Mage schools are screwed up, popular people are trouble, and starts to discover more about the source of his dreams. Can we Ashley?! I think we can! Stupid rebirth... never works out conveniently, huh? Please don't kill me ^_^.

jaa ne!

Lunar

[www.roodinverse.homestead.com][1]

   [1]: http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com



	3. Waiting hurts.

Looking2 ****

Looking for the Lost: part 2

Warning: Vagrant Story AU fic, some homosexual scenarios, language, and violence. Rated 'R' 

Notes: //...// represent thoughts.

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__

Who can say why your heart sighs,  
As your love flies?  
Only time...

And who can say why your heart cries,  
When your love dies?  
Only time...

(Enya, A Day without Rain- Only time)

Sweat dripped down his face as muscles strained, quivering with fatigue. Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself upwards. Chin above the bar for the 99th time, Mason held the position, sucking in each lung-full of air with a ragged gasp. It was torture to lower himself, every fiber in his arms and chest begging for rest. With a grunt, he forced himself back upwards, then gracelessly let go of the bar and let himself fall limply to the soft mat below.

// One-hundred... //

The sweaty teenager contemplated the harsh fluorescent lights wrapped in their protective cages along the gym ceiling. The annoying buzzing noise produced by the tubes was the only thing audible besides his loud breathing. Outside, some precocious bird was heralding the pre-dawn chorus of its fellows. Sunrise and birdsong, Mason was already familiar with the pattern. He was usually alone in the gym at this hour. Despite its '24-hour' status, it was never occupied at 4AM. He preferred it that way, the silence allowed him to concentrate. 

// Or to work myself into a stupor... God, this would be so much easier without the weights... // 

Biting down on a self-pitying groan, he pushed himself upright, and unbuckled the leather straps holding the offensive metal to his feet. Shaking his legs to restore life to them, he took a moment to stretch before carefully replacing the training equipment back on the rack. He checked the position of the sun idly and decided he could easily run a few laps before the track became crowded with the 'pre-breakfast' joggers.

// Of course... without the extra fifty pounds, it would be too easy... and that would be pointless... //

Mason didn't use the word 'masochist' to describe himself, it wasn't in his vocabulary. With a small smile he loped down to the track, falling into stride without really thinking. The smooth clean surface provided no obstacle, allowing his body and mind to operate almost independently. Legs pumped and arms flexed, but he was miles away, searching the corners of his mind for snippets of the dream from the night before. They too had altered since his arrival, seeming to reflect the changes that had overtaken his life since arriving at his new school. No longer were they each unique and crystalline, now they seemed to blur at the edges, much like remembering the endless days of summer vacation. The activities in each was repetitive in such a way that when he looked back, he was uncertain if what he remember had occurred, that day, that week or even that year. He did not truly mourn the change, nothing had been lost exactly, if anything the dreams had become more familiar, almost comforting, the people and places instantly recognizable.

Mostly he dreamed of a massive rolling field, its long grasses constantly waving in the breeze. The summer sky above him was the purest blue, occasionally dappled by clouds that he could sit and watch for hours. Mason could remember the endless nights he spent there as his alternate 'self'. Sometimes he would stand in a cleared area, working his way through drills with a sword as if he had done it all his life. The patterns were elegant and beautiful, far more interesting than the ones taught in the basic classes he sat through. Other times he dreamed that he was sparing, hands, staves, swords, even weapons he had no names for. His opponent was a small wiry man, looking almost as if he had stepped out of some Chinese folktale; not that Mason had much experience with them. The diminutive man was never to be underestimated however, and more likely than not he would spar for several rounds only to find himself on his back, staring up at those fluffy clouds in surprise. Occasionally, he'd look up to see his other nighttime companion staring down at him, the white-gold hair floating in the breeze. The expressive lips would twitch into a smile and he'd find himself hauled upright by thin strong hands. Sometimes they would exchange teasing banter, but for the most part the dreams were as silent as before. The voices sounding faded and distant, the words often lost in a confused mumble. Like an old movie who's sound had been distorted by continuous playback, the tone remained, but what exactly was said was unintelligible. 

If anything, it was that clarity that he missed the most. Mason could still clearly remember the one perfect dream he had had during the summer. Recovering from a concussion, and more than a little addled, he remembered it with almost obsessive attention to detail. The voice, the words, they had been so real, so close. If he closed his eyes he could still summon them from the back of his mind.

// "You refuse to wake up...?" // He felt his lips tug into a small smile, and stretched his arms above his head, loosening his shoulders while he ran. // "I bet I can think of something that'll wake you..." // The smile turned into a wide grin. 

// Yes, I bet you can... what I wouldn't give to wake up like that again... wake up and find you still there. Oh the things I'd do to you... // 

The sun was over the tops of the trees by the time signs of life stirred the campus. Slowly various boys began to trickle onto the track, alone or in groups, and began their morning stretches and start to run. Mason completed one more lap before angling his direction up over the low hill and up the stairs, slowing to a jog as he headed back towards the barrack-like dorms. He had time for a shower and quick breakfast before his first class.

-----------------------------------------

Joel Gray rubbed his stubble in frustration and slouched against the door as he rode around the small test track for the second time of what would be an all morning torture session. He kept one eye on the current student behind the wheel while mournfully contemplating his already empty cup of coffee. He'd call a break soon, one cup simply wasn't enough to start the day with anymore. He checked his watch, 8:25AM.

"Pull over, we're taking a five minute break."

"But sir, I've only been driving for ten minutes!"

"I know, just do it."

The driving instructor made certain to reclaim the car keys before trotting over to the small coffee pot in his office. He had been burned by /that/ mistake before.

// If it's not the crazy guardian trainees thinking that this is the 'Offensive Driving' course and ramming the damn car into a tree... it's the bloody mages accidentally morphing it into a hippopotamus... //

Joel had seen both happen within six months of accepting the job at the National Academy at Washington DC. He raked his hand through salt-and-pepper hair, certain it had thinned due to years of stress. Teaching fifteen year old boys the basics of driving was a nervous job to begin with, adding to that, these were generally 'gifted' teens, with influential families to back them up. Add to that, the fact that it was barely 8AM and they already had him teaching classes, and he was very much in need of something stronger than his little Mr. Coffee could be expected to brew without some magical assistance. He briefly thought of asking the Mechanical Magics department for help, and shuddered in terror at the idea of what he'd get back. Sure, it would make a /cappuccino/, but it would also likely be six feet tall and have a taste for his file-o-fax. There wasn't an enchanter he had met yet whose sense of humor he completely trusted. Sighing as he stirred in his Coffeemate, he returned to the track and glumly observed his small class. 

The three boys lounged on the still-damp grass, one juggling what appeared to be steak knives while the other two played cards with a dog. Joel glared at the animal, it too was to blame for his rising coffee consumption.

// Bloody familiars, they give me the willies. //

He had pointed out on the first day of classes that there was absolutely no need for the dog to accompany them on their daily practice sessions, but both dog and owner were cheerfully stubborn. The young bard had even agreed whole-heartedly with his arguments before giving a small shrug.

"It's not like I have much of a say... He just sort of goes where he wants. If he wants to ride with us, I'd let him if I were you..."

Joel recalled pointedly telling the boy both what he thought of the idea, and the dog. It was some time and a number of stitches later that he resumed teaching this particular group. He made a point of never mentioning the animal again. Catching its eye briefly, he could almost swear the large black brute was laughing at him. The dog's owner, a slim black-haired bard, and the other guardian were intermittently playing poker and wrestling with the energetic animal as it frisked around their sprawled forms. He liked the second trainee far more that the first, if only because he seemed capable of refraining from any movie-style car stunts when behind the wheel, and the fact that he didn't carry a bandoleer of sharp kitchen utensils under his shirt.

// Probably doesn't have to, judging by hand and feet, when he finishes growing he'll be able to tear the front end off of the Chevy without breaking a sweat... It's always the quiet ones... Whatever, it's not my problem... this is only /Defensive Driving/ after all... he can terrify the shorts off of Martin /next/ semester... then again.. I've /seen/ Martin drive... those kids have nothing on that man. // 

Younger mages had been known to be violently ill after riding in the back of the advanced instructor's car. He was generally reputed to be one of the long running role-models for the guardians. 

// They're all sick. //

He watched Mason idly pet the familiar. The savage creature simply stared at him, tongue lolling to one side. 

// Even the quiet ones. //

Joel cleared his throat. "Right, Donnelly. Your turn." He held out the keys to the tall boy who calmly walked around to the driver's seat. The other two boys and the dog scrambled into the back. 

-----------------------------------------

"... Bad, Az. You shouldn't tease the instructor... you /know/ what a stink he raised after you bit him." Val whispered in his dog's ear as he shouldered his backpack. The animal simply gave a whimpering grumble and tilted its head.

"I know he was asking for it, calling you stupid and deviant... but still... You almost got us kicked out! Three days! That would have been a new record for patheticness!"

"I can't believe that panty-waist complained to the Dean..." Roger was once more flipping his blades in a deadly arc. The bard watching him warily.

"Do you /have/ to do that /every/ day?"

The blonde trainee simply smirked as he juggled and walked at the same time. "Sure! It's a great way of picking-up chicks."

The black-haired boy simply sighed dramatically and looked over to his friend in sympathy. "He's crazy. Right?" He watched the knives twist in the air. "I mean, it's friggin' 9AM, on a Wednesday... at an all boy's school..."

"Practice makes perfect..." 

Mason simply watched the performance and shrugged. "It keeps him amused." 

Glancing at his watch, Val bit off a curse. "Ack, I gotta run if I'm going to make it to my cello lesson... See ya in French, Mason. Az! Come!" The black dog hesitated a moment, torn between watching the shiny metal and his rapidly retreating master. Seeming to think a moment, it lunged upwards, badly startling the trainee, and snatched one of the whirling objects out of mid air before sprinting off over the hill towards the conservatory. Roger sucked on a small cut as he gathered up the rest of his toys.

"Damn that thing, how the hell does it move so fast! And... Crap! it took my favorite one! That was the one Cindy gave me! That's it. That dog is going down."

"Good luck, you saw what happened to Patrick..."

"Patrick is a clumsy ass."

"Whatever you say, man... I'm off to history."

"You take way the Hell too many classes, Poindexter. People are gonna think you're a square."

"Beats the Hell out of being illiterate..." Mason smiled.

"What the fuck you implying, Donnelly!" The threat was all bluster, the other boy already heading back to the dorms. "Hey," he shouted over his shoulder. "If you see that crazy bard later... tell him I /want/ my knife back! Got it?"

"I'll get it for ya... go back to sleep already."

"Good as gone man... good as gone... have fun in 'hissssssss-tory', ya loser."

The trainee merely rolled his eyes and continued down the path. He slid into his seat at the back of the lecture hall just as the teaching assistants were closing the doors, putting his feet up on the empty seat in front of him and getting comfortable. It has taken several weeks for him to realize the truth in his friend's warnings. At first he had done his best to be a diligent student, then the first tests were issued, and he realized he had set his expectations a little high. The perfect score had been a quickly hidden embarrassment, as around him the trainees bemoaned their C's. Mason started leaving his notebooks in his room, except on rare occasions where he would idly doodle in them. History class however, was far too early for such activities, so he wriggled lower in his seat --copying the pose of the majority of the class that had bothered to attend-- and let himself drift. The dry commentary on the 'Hundred Year's War' added a bizarre counterpoint to his daydreams, filling them with the sights and sounds of a Medieval battle, foot soldiers screaming in English and French as they fought and died. He only shook off the disjoint feeling when the lecture ended, shaking his head to settle himself, he followed the tired crowd out and down the hall. Math went by in much the same way.

By the time he slid into his seat in the noisy French class, he was starving. Mason slouched forward onto the fold-out leaf of his chair and closed his eyes a moment, trying to convince his stomach to be patient for one more hour. It wasn't listening. A wet tongue took advantage of his unguarded face, giving him a large slurp. It jarred him awake, protesting loudly, only to see his neighbor was grinning merrily.

"That got your attention! Come on, sit up! You know what a beast Madame Verfont can be when she thinks someone is sleeping in class..."

"She isn't here yet..." His grumbled complaint was followed by another growl from his stomach. Az looked up from his sprawl beneath the bard's feet in surprise.

"Jesus! Didn't you eat breakfast?!" Val smothered a laugh at his friend's pathetic nod. "Well... hold on a sec... I think... Ah, yes. You see? What would you do without me... I swiped it from breakfast." The banana offered was somewhat lint covered, having come from the bottom of the boy's bag, but was accepted gratefully none-the-less. The bard merely watched in awe as the fruit was almost swallowed whole.

"That..." Mason licked his fingers happily. "That was a life-saver. Thank you."

The thinner boy waggled a finger disapprovingly, "No no! Merci! C'est classe Française, Naturellement!" 

"Don't make me hit you."

-----------------------------------------

The grassy field behind the school building provided a break from the never-ending craziness of orientation, and Mason looked around the deserted area with interest. The sunny meadow reminded him of his happier dreams, and he collapsed in the tall grass with a sigh of contentment. From the distant school, sounds of people and traffic faintly trickled over the hill top, conflicting oddly with the birdsong and crickets. The high thin clouds blew by, as the day's heat settled in. The dark-haired boy allowed himself to relax for the first time in days.

// So... this is what it's like to be a trainee? They're all nuts. Completely loopy... //

He rubbed his race with his hands, pausing to inspect their already numerous blisters and scrapes.

// Academics all morning, weapons all afternoon, followed by more in the evening... and extra classes on weekends... Maybe trying for a full schedule wasn't such a good idea... my room-mate took a look at my schedule and started crying he laughed so hard... So what's wrong with wanting to take more French? I /like/ it... And the Driving class is mandatory... and then the Military Science just looked interesting... and then there's the boring stuff... and the practice and drills... Then I sleep like the dead for four hours... and start over again... 'what ever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' Yeah, right... more like 'what ever doesn't kill you will eventually wear you down to a babbling wreck'... Still... It's nice to get out a bit... even if this is hypothetically 'off limits'... I wonder what Pete meant, there weren't any rules posted about it... and the fence was too low to stop anything but sheep... //

Mason stretched aching muscles and settled down again, content with the peaceful view. He had achieved a near doze, listening to the droning bees, when a new sound intruded on his haven. Straining his ears, he soon could make out the unmistakable flow of distant melody. Someone else was coming up the hillside, picking at a guitar as they walked. The trainee held still as the stranger drew closer, the song looping back on itself in an ornate introduction before a mellow voice picked up the theme, the guitar branching into harmony. The words struck him as strangely appropriate.

"Oh, the gypsy rover went o'er the hill, down to the valley so sha-a-dy, and he whistled and sang till the green woods rang, and he won the heart of a la-a-ady..." The other boy was near enough now that Mason could pick out the sound of his footsteps. He felt almost guilty listening to the song from his hiding place, almost as if he was spying. The singer was terribly talented however and seemed either uncaring or unaware that he had an audience. The dark-haired boy was so caught up in following the exploits of the 'rover' that he was taken completely unawares by the singer's companion. One moment he was laying happily entranced by the tune, the next were a frantic blur of black fur, white teeth, and a menacing barking, as he was pounced by a large angry dog.

"Holy Shit!"

The animal may have had the advantage of surprise, but Mason's reflexes were only sharper after a summer's training in preparation for school. The teeth snapped inches from his face as he all but threw the dog off his chest and scrambled upright. The creature was rotating almost before it his the ground, assuming a rather menacing posture and growling like a grizzly bear. The trainee had no doubt the animal was ready and willing to make another attempt at his head, but it remained crouched, watching him carefully. The song had come to an immediate halt. Mason held perfectly still, unwilling to provoke the creature further, but allowed himself a brief glance up. Standing directly behind the angry dog, another student stared at him in blank surprise, fingers clamped tightly over the guitar's neck to silence the strings.

// ...Bard! That's the crest for the Bardic School on his bag! // His brain continued to absorb details even as the rest of him remained frozen in the odd tableau. Slowly he began to put facts together. // Bard... dog... me. Funny, you'd think it would attack again... it looks mean enough... but it's just standing there... like it's guarding something? // Mason watched both dog and man carefully and took a measured two steps backwards. The movement seemed to do the trick, jarring them from their stunned inaction. The bard blinked and unclenched his instrument. The dog stopped growling, its posture changing from aggressive to passive with a twitch of the tail.

"Goodness... I didn't even know you were /there/!" Slightly taller, the black-haired teen looked almost skin and bones under his school blazer and old blue jeans. Most mages, even the bards, seemed to go out of their way to 'look' the part. When in uniform they'd alter fabrics --linen for cotton, suede for denim-- but on a weekend you could expect them to be at their best, their name-brand clothing starched to perfection. This bard, looked more like a guardian trainee than anything, from his tousled hair to his grass stained knees. As Mason looked closer he realized that even the 'frailty' was a possible deception, the thin body possessing a wiry sort of muscle.

He blinked in surprise, saying the first thing that came into his head. "Your dog damn near /killed/ me!" The animal in question simply tilted its head, almost looking amused. The mage had the good grace to blush slightly, nudging his pet with a foot in reprimand.

"Bad, Az." The black beast whined slightly. "You surprised /him/ too... otherwise he wouldn't have jumped you like that... he thought it was an ambush."

"A... what?"

"Ambush, you know, lay in wait then do bodily harm? or something... Az... is a little overprotective sometimes."

"I'd have never guessed. Do you get ambushed often?" Deciding the dog was no longer an immediate threat, the dark-haired boy set about dusting his clothes off.

"Often enough, pranks and such... Az wouldn't have /really/ hurt you... he just wanted to scare you a bit... I /am/ sorry about that..." The handsome smile distracted him from any remaining hostility, and he found himself reaching to shake the proffered hand without meaning to. Something felt strange about the meeting, but he didn't know why. It just felt important. 

"Valor... Valor Jones. Please, call me Val."

"Mason Donnelly, pleased to meet you." The response, and the handshake were automatic, as such it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up. "Did you just say your name was..."

"...Yes. My mother fancied herself poetic. Go ahead and laugh, everyone does, even me." The smile was definitely contagious as it flashed again; an easy welcoming grin that both humored and forgave.

The trainee scratched his head in embarrassment, eyes falling to observe the dog again. It was still watching him, but now sat primly, tongue lolling in the mid-afternoon heat. "Hi Az." He immediately felt stupid for saying it, and shrugged at Val's laughter. Az, for his part, offered a short bark in response.

"How about that, he's famous, and /polite/ too... I think you had really better apologize, Az... wouldn't do to go pissing off celebrities..." 

Mason blinked again, certain this would not be one of his better first impressions. "Who... me?" He was rewarded with another laugh, and watched in alarm as the dog slowly walked over, sat, and offered a paw. Recognizing the trick, he crouched down and 'shook hands' with the animal, and cautiously patted the sleek head. "It's fine man, no harm done." He looked up, "What do you mean 'famous'? I just got here, I'm nobody special."

"So says the boy who scored a 750 on the physical proficiencies during entrance exams? And a pure 800 on reasoning? For an un-blooded first-year, you did pretty damn well! Well enough that your name got on a list with some fairly prestigious ones! The only other first-years being talked of more than /you/ are Mr.'s Holdacher, Rowlands and Mathies. The first two of whom come from guardian stock, and the third who is a first year in name only. /He/'s a late arrival, only going to be here long enough to 'polish', before off into the 'real world' he goes..." The taller boy's eye's twinkled as he imparted the information.

"People /talk/... about /me/?" He was still stalling on the first part of the conversation. "...Who?... When?...Why?"

Val gave Az a scratch behind the ears. "He's not taking this so well... is he?" He applied a gentle cuff to the trainee's head before answering the stunned questions, exaggerating his words humorously. "The maaaaages. Especially the hoity-toity ones... Back at the beginning of the year when the 'honorable merit' list had a certain 'Mason Donnelly' mentioned on it. The general consensus is... someday /you/ just may be /somebody/..." An eloquent eyebrow arched. "...As to how /I/ know... well Bards /are/ mages too... although people seem to like forgetting that... I watch, I listen, I /remember/... and I retell! It's what I /do/. Who knows! Maybe someday, I'll be able to write a song about you."

// Lucky lucky me... // Mason decided that then would be a good time to sit down. He promptly found himself with a lap full of dog. Az was sniffing his face and shirt curiously. 

"What... what is he doing now?"

"Haven't the slightest... he says... he says you smell 'interesting'... but refuses to elucidate." The bard carefully settled himself nearby, swinging his guitar onto his lap and idly retunning it. He caught the trainee's confused look. "He gets like that sometimes. Just push him off if it bothers you."

It was easier to simply sit there and be tickled by the doggy-breath. "Nah, I'm ok... He talks then? Funny sort of dog..."

"Only up here" Val tapped his forehead. "Haven't you learned about familiars yet? No, probably not for a few weeks... You'll be taking one of those 'What's What and Who's Who of Magic' classes I expect.... Ah, I remember it well... had some /fine/ naps in /that/ one..."

"You're not a first-year?" 

"God no, that was last year." Hands made an expressive 'warding' gesture before returning to caress the strings. The renewed melody reminded Mason of the unfinished song.

"So what happened to the girl? The one who ran a away with the gypsy...?"

"What?" The bard stared blankly for a moment. "Oh! The song! Well, the traditional thing I suppose, her dad goes tearing after her, ready to beat the gypsy bloody... but 'lo and behold, it's not a gypsy... but a king in disguise! So in the end, everyone is happy. Lucky them." Val grinned and finished the song. " 'O he is no /gypsy/, my father!' She cried. 'But Lord of these lands all o-over! And I will stay till my dying day... With the whistling gypsy rover..." 

Mason couldn't help but chuckle at the older boy's antics, long fingers deftly picking out the song's closing bars. "You're really good! Like someone on the radio or something." The complement was met only with a shake of the head, the melody flowing seamlessly into a new one.

"I'm ok... good enough to get by, if I work at it." 

// What? What's wrong with him? He's /awesome/... But maybe he can't see that... Talented people are funny like that sometimes...//

"Yeah right. I bet you in five years, you'll be up to your neck in money while I'll still be looking for work!" The trainee laughed. "Hell, I'll probably be asking you for a loan." The atmosphere seemed to shift abruptly. The bard silencing the instrument and rising, seeming to have just remembered something. Az followed his master's shift in mood, wriggling out of Mason's lap to stare anxiously at his owner.

"More likely, you'll not remember me. I... I should go."

"What...? Hey! Wait...!" 

The older boy was already walking quickly down the hill, but turned when he found himself followed. "Thanks for being so nice, Mason. And please don't be offended, but go away. We can't be friends."

"What...?!" He was now completely lost. "Did I say something wrong?! I'm sorry! I just really like your music! I didn't mean to make you upset!" Thin hands fluttered in wordless exasperation.

"No you, idiot. /You're/ fine! You're great... but believe me, you don't want to be my friend... It'd be a real bad idea." Az crouched next to the well worn sneakers grumbling softly.

"Then what's the matter? Why can't we be friends? Is this some sort of stupid Mage-Guardian thing?...What?" He glared at the bard who stared at him in disbelief.

"You... " Expressive eyes closed as he sighed in defeat. "Look. You're new here, so I'll try to explain. /You/... you have a /chance/ here... a /real/ chance... in four years you'll leave this place, and people will want to /know/ you... want to /hire/ you... want to /fight/ you... /whatever/... You have all this potential! /I/ on the other hand... Well let's just say that if you hang out with me... you very well might kiss that bright future goodbye." Val shook his head at the blank look he received. "Jesus... Ok, try again... Mason, I'm Black-Listed, have been for years. 'Bad Seed.' 'Trouble'. 'One hair short of fugitive from the law'..."

"You're kidding."

"No, ask anyone. They'll agree." The voice was quietly serious.

"You're what... 17? How the Hell can you be so /bad/? You're a /Bard/!"

"What is /that/ supposed to mean...?" For a moment, Valor almost smiled, then resumed his stern pose. "...I... did something stupid when I was a kid, something that I can't undo... and I made a lot of enemies.../bad/ ones. They've pretty much guaranteed that any work I find after leaving here will be scarce at best and it's entirely likely that if you go and be stupid and hangout with me... They'll 'mark' you too... I don't want to be responsible for ruining your life..."

Mason thought for a moment. "Wait... so you're saying that I shouldn't hangout with you on the off chance that some jack-ass mage somewhere will spread it around that I'm a loser?"

"I never said it was a mage. And yes."

"You didn't have to. And who cares."

"Nobody will hire you!"

"Then I'll happily go home and be an auto-mechanic like dad. Or do these 'mysterious mages' control /that/ too...?" 

"You could get /hurt/." The bard was obviously grasping at straws.

"You're a Bard. You tell stories. It's what you do. I'm a Guardian. I get in fights. It's what /I/ do!" He gave his best challenging glare, knowing that he'd won. "Besides, if people are out to get you... it sounds like you could /use/ a Guardian... No offense Az, but a dog's a dog..." He nodded to the animal. Oddly, it nodded back. 

Val threw up his hands. "He agrees. /I/ think you're both morons."

"Ah, but we're both morons who like your music."

"Ah well... no accounting for taste in some people... Hey!" The black dog was playfully nipping at his ankles as they walked back towards campus. Looking over at his new friends, Mason felt perfectly happy for the first time since his arrival two weeks before.

"So... If I'm your Guardian... How much do I get paid?"

"Ho ho!" The older boy was once again all smiles. "/I/ think I should get a discount... being that you are not only a first-year, but younger than me as well!"

"That and the fact that you're completely broke?"

"Are you /sure/ you aren't clairvoyant?!"

"Lucky guess... So, Az and I make sure nobody drags you into an alley... and You owe us songs... and some percentage of your future billions... Deal?"

"What sort of percentage..."

"Like I have a clue."

"We're doomed."

-----------------------------------------

"Hey Maisie. What'cha thinking about? You've gone all quiet."

"Boy-Wonder getting stressed about the Spring Trials?"

"Awe /crap/ those are next week aren't they..."

"You idiot..."

"Dude, have you seen him in practice lately? Even the /Seniors/ are scared..."

"Damn! I can't believe it's spring already... five more weeks and we're free for the summer!"

"I can't wait to get /out/ of this dump..."

"I hear your dad has a new summer house down on the cape..."

"Hey, who ate my fries?!"

Val casually smacked the still whining Jeffi on the head, ignoring the conversation swirling around the crowded booth. His friend had ignored the quiet inquiry, still staring sightlessly out the window. The bard was uncertain if he simply hadn't been heard in the uproar, or there was something deeper at work. He followed the trainee's gaze out the window of the diner to the rack of bicycles out front. Az was lounging on the lawn, his aura radiating irritation.

// Oh /stop/ it already. You know there are no dogs allowed in here... //

/ It's boring outside. /

// I'll make it up to you. //

/ The little red-head just stole your milk-shake. /

// What? // Val looked down, then over to where Moimoi was happily slurping at a metallic cup. // Why you little... //

"Oi! Wench! That was mine! And /where/ are your manners!"

"Left'em in the damn 'Etiquette and Protocol' class... with the rest of the useless getup..." She waved her hands, implying the flouncy dresses and hats the girls were obliged to wear. "Shaaa... As if I'm ever gonna get a high-class mage of my own... Why do we girls have to put up with /so/ much shit?! Do you know they train us to /fight/ in those things?! Like I'd be caught dead on the job wearing anything but my combie-boots..."

"And what'll you do at the semi-formals?" Arton broke off from describing his new house to pretend to glance down his nose at her.

"Spit-shine them. Maybe." The guardian trainees broke out into smiles as they agreed with the statement, Arton simply hung his head in disbelief.

"... Guardians..."

"... /Mages/..."

// That joke must be as old as the earth itself... //

/ I don't get it. /

// It's a human thing. // He watched in amusement as the black dog was stalked by a kitten, one of the strays fed by the diner staff. The small ball of orange fur would cautiously creep through the grass and try to pounce Az's feathery tail. Somehow the kitten was never quite able to catch hold for long however, and people marveled at the large dog's patience. // See? Say you're bored, and someone comes to say hello... //

/ Its teeth are getting sharper. / The dog visibly winced and finally shifted to pin the smaller animal under a paw. 

/ Stop that. /

The kitten mewled piteously until allowed up again, then happily settled to grooming its playmate.

/ I give up. /

// That big mean 'ol cat got you beat? // 

/ What's wrong with Mason? / Az skillfully ignored the sarcasm, turning his attention to the quiet form across the table from the bard.

// You tell me. // Grey eyes flickered, attention divided between studying his two closest friends. The dog simply sat straighter, observing the muscled teenager. Mason was oblivious, drawing little 'x' shaped patterns on the table with the condensation dripping from his glass.

/ ... Before he was definitely remembering the day he met us... but now... he's thinking very hard about something... An earth-quake shattered city... with a view of the ocean... /

// What... like post-apocalyptic New York or something? // Val felt faintly bad that he could 'spy' on his friend this way, but sometimes it seemed the only real way of telling what was going on in the quiet boy's head. 

/ No... /older/ much older... almost like Venice... or... strange, I feel I should recognize it. But I don't... No details, he shields to well for me to go deeper without him noticing. /

// A dream then...? //

/ ... more like a memory... hard to say. /

The bard watched his friend a moment longer. The finger mindlessly retracing the same pattern over and over. Short crossed by long, crossed by an 'x', almost like a distorted orthodox cross. It was a curious shape, resembling a five pointed sword. He squinted at it a moment longer before giving up and physically prodding his friend. The trainee looked up in surprise.

"Hey, you done? It's too loud to think in here, I need to get some air."

"Umm, yeah, count me in." Seeming to collect himself, the younger man fought his way out of the overcrowded booth. Even in the crowd, Valor noticed the surreptitious swipe, the guardian casually erasing his diligently formed pattern.

// So many secrets... //

"Val, Mason! Don't forget, party in Nelson's room tonight!" The bard shook his head in disbelief.

// We all have too many secrets... //

-----------------------------------------

"So... Where to, Oh Fearless-Leader...?"

// Good question. Where am I going...? // Leaving the cheery diner had alleviated some of the headache, but none of the causes, leaving Mason feeling hollow and strangely anxious as they walked back towards the school. // Why do I feel that the longer I stay here... the more time I'm just /wasting/... There's something I have to /do/... but what....? // A hand caught him on the shoulder.

"Hey. You. What's wrong? You mad at me or something?"

"Nothing's wrong," He shrugged away, feeling vaguely guilty at the worried look aimed his direction. The bard's knowing expression only made it worse. // Funny, Val and the man in my dreams have the same 'I'm worried' face... all big eyes and a tiny frown... Are.../you/...? Are you /him/...? Valor...? There's something so familiar about you... //

"I'm just... " Realizing there was nothing he could say that wouldn't require him talking for hours, he stopped. // I can't... I want to... but I can't tell you... if I did, you'd go be all concerned and 'responsible' on me and tell an adult... No, I know what I'm doing. This is /my/ problem... /I'll/ deal with it... alone. // He couldn't look his friend in the eye, but looking down, he was promptly caught again. Black on black eyes watching him in silent inquiry. // Why do I get the feeling that half the time Az is /smarter/ than me...? Probably because he is... I wonder what he's thinking... // The dog gave no sign, it simply sat, waiting. 

"I'm not mad... I'm not /anything/... just sort of hollow... it's been a bad day." Mason smiled apologetically. Gray eyes watched him a moment longer before the older boy let out an exaggerated sigh, seriousness dismissed. 

"Weeeeeeell then, lead the way! 'O' Captain my Captain'" With a florid bow, the bard waived him ahead on the path. 

// He's not going to push this...? Thanks Val, I owe you... //

The walked in silence for a while, the late afternoon light sending queer shadows across the quiet road. Not really intending to, Mason found himself picking out the trail up the slope behind the Academy, aimlessly wandering to his favorite thinking spot. He stood a moment, looking at the campus, uncertain why he had come, but his friend had no such hesitations.

"Ahhhh! This is much better... I love those guys... a lot... but what with the Tournament next week... then Summer Vacation... they just /don't/ shut up! Blah Blah Blah! Rondell alone could talk the legs off a horse..." The bard's good natured complaining was agreed to by his dark familiar. The dog sitting complacently at his side as he sprawled in the grass. "Ah well, maybe I can receive an invitation to go to Anton's place for vacation... that'd be neat... what say 'ye Master Az...? Wouldst thou like to revel in the lap of luxury for a week?" The animal made a non-committal noise. Owner and pet wrestled briefly but stopped when they realized they were being ignored.

"Hey... Maisie... C'mere..." Mason was jarred out of his mindless state by a firm tug on his pants leg, and looked down. Val simply gave him a mysterious smile. "Come down here... I won't bite..." He paused to think, "Well, Az might, but he promises to be good." The trainee made to resist, but the other boy's concerned expression was his undoing, and he folded to the ground. He was surprised when the bard shifted behind him and tugged him backwards, uncertain what to expect. A moment later he found himself sprawled on the ground, his head carefully pillowed in the musician's lap. 

"Valor, what...?"

"Shhh... /relax/... It's OK." For a moment things felt terribly awkward and embarrassing, but then the older boy began to hum. Slender fingers gently raked his hair and their movement, combined with the lilting melody made him feel calm and easy. The driving 'need' that had been eating at him for days slowly fading into the background until it was only a murmur. Mason closed his eyes, succumbing to the calm evening.

// ...he's... this is Bardic Power...? I've never seen him use it before... Odd really, the other bards show off all the time... Why now, Val? I should be mad at him for manipulating my emotions... but then being mad at /anything/ while he's humming would be impossible... // 

His guardian senses were quick to register when the feeling behind the melody shifted, the previously calming song taking on more of a lulling aspect. He blinked to drive the sudden wave of sleepiness from his muscles. "Stop that." 

"Huh...? Oh... Drat." The bard's grin was chagrinned. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice..."

"Nice try... but no thanks... I'd rather be awake right now..." A hand patted his head in understanding.

"Fair enough... Feeling better?"

"... Yes, Thanks. I owe you one." Val simply smiled at the candid reply.

"I'm glad." 

Without the magical melody forcing him into a state of calm, Mason found himself hovering in an odd equilibrium. Torn between its earlier anxiety and the current feeling of deep peace, his mind was for once clear and almost untroubled. The wind ruffled the grasses as they sat in silence, his head resting in his friend's lap, and Az curled up against his side. He didn't think about anything in particular his mind lazily flitting from one idea to the next.

// This feeling... /belonging/... I know it can't last... but for right now... it's all I need. I think this must be what love feels like... knowing some cares deeply about you... knowing you care about them... // He silently watched the bard as the older boy watched the sunset, neither having much use for words. The sun gradually sank below the distant mountains, and shifting slightly, Valor fumbled for his pocket-watch, opening it with a small 'click'.

"...7pm... The party will be starting soon..." The quiet statement hinted at nothing, allowing the trainee to decide what they would do. 

"You wanna go?" He shifted slightly, getting ready to lever himself upright.

"Honestly?" 

Mason heard a strange catch in the usually smooth voice, and looked up at the shadowed face. "Yeah, I don't really care... what do /you/ want to do?" The smile was still easy to see, even in the dusky light.

"I was actually rather happy here... but you must find it very dull... I mean there'll be games and beer and whatnot... maybe even a few /girls/ if Nelson can sneak them past security..."

"Oh please... All they're going to do is endless rounds of 'Truth or Dare' and 'Spin the Bottle' and then get hopelessly smashed."

The bard laughed lightly, "Is that if the girls show up? Or not?"

"Like it matters to Nelson...?" The dark-haired boy finally mustered the energy to sit up-right, and settled next to his friend.

"Good point." Mason felt the gray eyes staring at him, but watched the horizon instead. There was a strange sort of tension in the air. "We're friends, right? Mason?"

He turned, surprised at the seemingly random question. "After putting up with me for a year you ask this?" The usually cheerful features were serious, waiting for an answer. "Of course we're friends /idiot/... what kind of question is that..."

"An important one... /of course/..." There was a ghost of laughter in the voice. "Hey... I've got an idea..." 

// From 'depressed' to 'devious', in less than six seconds, BMW presents the new model 'VAL'-160... what are you up to you crazy bard... //

Resisting the urge to laugh at the image of a 'valor-mobile' the trainee raised an eyebrow at the incomplete thought. It was almost certainly going to be a 'bad' idea, but that had never stopped them before. "...What..."

"I was thinking we could play a game /here/..." The grin was positively wicked.

"What sort of game..."

"... I don't know... 'Spin the Bottle' is out..." Mason sputtered in embarrassment at the dry comment. "And I don't have my deck of cards... it's too dark to play tag... I guess that leaves us 'Truth or Dare'..."

//... I don't think I'm going to like this... //

"...with only two people..."

"And Az..."

"I'm /not/ playing 'Truth or Dare' with a dog..."

The bard laughed again, "Very well, Az doesn't much like the game anyway... Shall we play?"

Val's expression was perfectly carefree, revealing nothing of his reasoning. The dark-haired boy hesitated. // What the Hell... It could be interesting... //

"Sure. Who goes first."

"I shall. Truth? or Dare." Valor gave him an arch look.

"Umm... Truth...?" Mason fought the urge to swallow nervously.

"Why do you want to be a Guardian...? and don't give me any of that shit about wanting to defend the innocent or any of those textbook reasons."

// Damn it can't you ask something that I can answer without... // He glanced at Az, who was now watching him avidly. // Why do I have the sudden feeling that lying just isn't gonna be an option tonight...? I wonder if the same applies to Val... //

"I..." Distinctly glad that they were alone, he swallowed his pride. "Ever since I was a kid... I dreamed that I was a Guardian... I dunno, I guess me being here sort of is me following that dream... or trying to."

"You dreamed of coming here?" The bard watched him curiously.

"No... more like I dreamed that I was one ... a long time ago... like a knight in shining armor or something..."

"Curious."

"Not really... /My/ turn, Truth? or Dare."

"Truth."

"What did you do that got you Black-Listed...?"

"Ouch. You don't pull your punches, do you." The mage smiled wanly.

"Nope."

Val tucked his knees against his chest. "I stole something."

"Valuable?"

"One-of-a-kind." He laughed.

"What was it?"

Warm eyes watched him in the near-darkness. "Now now... one question only...Truth or dare...?"

"Truth, and screw you, /you/ asked more than one question..."

"You didn't have to answer... " He pet his dog a moment, as if seeking inspiration. "How often do you dream?"

"What?" Mason glared at the animal, as it sat passively. 

// I think I'm being ganged-up on... // He shrugged, "Every night. Truth or Dare."

"Ah, but you're just going to ask what I stole, yes? I think I'll take dare..." 

Mason ground his teeth in frustration. His chance to get to the bottom of Val's mysterious past seemingly thwarted. "You, Valor Jones, have yet to ask a girl to the Spring Ball next week..."

"Don't you /dare/, Mason..."

"Oh but I do... You, Valor Jones, will go over to recital practice at the Girls School, Monday afternoon... and get on you knees and beg Miss Celeste Akabar to go with you..." He couldn't help but grin at the pole-axed expression. It was almost worth not knowing the 'truth.'

"Mason Donnelly... you are a cruel, evil, /malicious/ man... You know perfectly well that I don't want to go out with that girl!"

"She's gorgeous!"

"So?!"

"And a soprano..."

"I /know/ /that/... that's not the Point!"

"... and she's your friend, and a bard as well... so what's your problem!" He assumed his most 'all-knowing' face.

"She's been /trying/ to get me to ask her out all semester! You jerk! Did she put you up to this?!"

"Oh, like I hang out with women all the time when you're not around... No. She didn't... I just think you two'd make a cute couple..."

"...She's not my type." The older boy was obviously suppressing further complaint.

"Too bad."

"Fine. Truth, or dare."

"Truth, I'm not afraid of you..."

"Don't tempt fate. Are you homosexual?"

The distant corner of his mind that wasn't drowning in embarrassment only had the coherence to utter a choked "...what...?!"

"Truth, Mason. Are you interested in boys...?"

// How the Hell did he... Who /else/ knows?! I haven't done /anything/ that might... have I...?! Shit!//

The crescent of moon offered little light. It was probably for the best given how red his face must been. "... Yeah, I guess I am..."

"You guess...?" The mellow laugh served to relax the sudden tension slightly.

"Go to Hell, 'Yes,' God damn it. Jesus please don't tell me it was 'obvious'..." 

"It wasn't. Well... go on..."

"... truthordare."

"Truth. Relax, I won't tell. I couldn't care less about that nonsense, I was just curious, that's all."

Still feeling off balance, Mason looked around for inspiration, tempted for a brief moment to copy his friend's question back to him. He had never actively considered the idea that Valor might be gay as well. It had always been something he had pushed aside, easier to pretend he was normal. There had been no temptations worth risking so far. 

// And some of the school policies are... a little strict about 'appropriate' behavior... Easier to just concentrate on getting through classes... // 

He stared at the napping dog. "Where'd Az come from...? And don't say your 'uncle' made him for you, I checked, you don't have an uncle."

"Hey!" Valor stared warily at him. "Touché; . But it's poor form to do background checks on your friends. I found Az in Chicago, or rather he found /me/... Bloody well followed me home."

"And before that...?"

The bard blew at his bangs childishly, "Who knows. He's not telling." 

// ...and again... there's something you're not telling... Damn it there has to be a way to force you to answer... //

"Truth or dare...?" 

Something in the sing-song quality warned him that the question would be another shocker. He hesitated, then gave in. "Truth."

"Do you like /me/...?" There was devilish twinkle in the bards eye as he watched his friend go beet red again.

// Valor, I swear I'm going to kill you, you're my best friend.... but you're going to /die/. // His first response came out a garbled mutter.

"What was that...?"

"I said, not when you're being an ass."

"Be serious."

"I /was/ being serious." Mason rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I... I like you... a lot... but..."

"... but only as a friend...? Ehh?" 

He was briefly and bitterly jealous of the older boy's ability to talk about his feelings with perfect aplomb. "... yeah, something like that..."

"What's the matter... Not pretty enough for you?" The tease was light hearted, but the trainee began to wonder if his face would stay a permanent shade of red.

"I... You... /Stop that/!" His friend seemed to finally pick up on his extreme discomfort and dropped the subject, still laughing.

"I'm sorry, I am... maybe we'd better stop... You look as though you're feeling faint..."

"I think I could use that beer now..."

Friendly hands pulled him to his feet and the walked down the hill, the dog trotting ahead. They were almost at the split in the path between the dormitories before the bard stopped him with a touch. 

"Hey... Sorry that I tricked you into that... no hard feelings?"

"For what...? Not being able to think up as many wicked questions...? No prob, my ego will recover."

Val grinned, "You sure you don't want to ask one more? You didn't take your last turn..."

He thought for a moment in the lamplight. "Ok... truth or dare."

"Truth," the bard winked.

"If Celeste isn't your type, then /who/ is...? I've never seen you look twice at girl..."

"That's probably because I rather prefer them tall, dark, and /handsome/..." He smirked, turning towards the mage housing. "Good /night/, Mason."

The trainee stood on the empty path for several long minutes before ruefully shaking his head and turning towards his bed. "... mages...bah..." And yet for some reason, he couldn't help but smile.

-----------------------------------------

The old wooden training hall was full to bursting, trainees frantically grabbing their weapons and strapping on pieces of armor. The enthusiastic crowd did nothing to improve the stuffy heat in the building, the unusual heat causing the concessions booths to do brisk business for lemonade and icy beverages. Student volunteers from the upper level classes were working in teams to cast spells to form massive blocks of ice to satisfy demand. Mason wiped his neck with a towel before settling his padded leather jacket on and began buckling the front. Steady hands forced his head to remain stationary a moment as the hard-to-reach clasps on his neck and shoulders snapped into place.

// How many times... how many times have I done this... in my dreams... It's almost a comfort to be here, checking my weapons... // He pulled on his boots carefully. // Checking my gear... // He watched the other contestants in the Student Tournament, some calm, some confident, many nervously fidgeting. // Checking the opposition... //

// I'm ready. // 

"You do realize that I have no idea what I'm doing... right...?" The bard's too cheerful smile couldn't completely mask his nervousness as he looked his friend over. Checking his laces, the younger man shook his head and smiled.

"Listen to you... you'd think I was making you fight or something..." He stood, stretching slightly to settle the pads in place before reaching for the gloves. 

"As if I'd have agreed to that... Fred may be crazy enough to try to take his guitar into combat... but frankly... I'll stick to working the audience... I could use the pocket money. But you..." Valor stepped back to look his friend over. He was startled at how adult the trainee suddenly looked, the leather armor like a second skin done in brown and red. "...You look good." 

"Thanks. Helmet?"

"Here..." The magician had been rather surprised when his friend had asked /him/ to help prepare for combat. Valor had early on stated his opinion on fighting, it was something he felt was better left to Guardians, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. Getting into fights was an excellent way of breaking fingers, and he needed his badly for other things. He had no idea what sort of assistance Mason would need before the fight, but was determined to do his best. He looked the armor over once more for anything loose or ill fitting. 

"Heh... this thing's useless... bet it gets knocked off in the first ten minutes..." The trainee strapped it on anyway, grumbling again as it slightly limited his peripheral vision. "Check that, /I'm/ knocking it off in the first ten minutes..." He methodically strapped on his sword and buckler.

"... Is fighting without a helmet really safe?"

"The proff's make sure no one is badly injured... as far as I understand they use a more conservative version of what is used in the actual Gala... pretty cool huh?"

Val smiled faintly. "I wouldn't mind seeing a Gala some day... but I'd prefer if it was one you /lived/ to compete in..."

"I'll be fine. This ought to be easy."

"Ought to... Mason! You /do/ know that half the upper-classmen plan to gang up on you right? They're terrified that some freshman will make it into the final three..."

"That freshman being /me/...? Funny. I'm not that good."

"Bull /shit/!" The trainee blinked at the out of character curse. "I've been looking around, Maisie... You're going to kick some ass today... just..." Val scratched his head nervously. "Just try not to be disappointed if you don't make it to number one, ok?"

"...gotcha." The armored boy grinned, "So, what's my number?"

" Lucky 14. Your favorite."

"And how'd you pull /that/ off?" Mason watched his friend carefully tie the identifying number onto his upper arm.

"Easy, I had Az threaten to bite the two people in line ahead of me... There... you're ready." He gently squeezed the muscled shoulders, "Is there anything else I can do?"

The fighter laughed lightly. "Don't suppose you know any handy spells for making a person invulnerable or something..." 

"/That/ would definitely get noticed..."

"Too true, never mind."

The bard tilted his head in thought, then smiled mysteriously. "How ever... I bet there's something I /could/ do... and it /wouldn't/ get noticed... Sort of... a hypnosis sort of thing, get you as clear-headed as possible... I use it when I get nervous about performing on stage... Maybe it won't help though."

Brown eyes twinkled. "We'll do it for luck then."

"For luck." Slim fingers pressed against his temples as the teenager concentrated. At first Mason could hear nothing, and tried to lean closer, but the hands held him firm, and gradually the background noise faded. It was as if a thick glass barrier stood between them and the surging crowds. He listened closely, Valor was humming softly. There was no melody that he could name, he only had the faintest impression of the song itself, more focused on the power behind it. A wave of cool energy washed through him, clearing away all the random nerves and concerns and leaving behind only a sense of calm readiness. The spell held him in it's grasp for a serene instant, then faded, allowing the surrounding noise to swell back to it's regular clamor. The dark-haired boy shook himself, getting used to the lingering feeling of calm detachment. It flickered like cold fire behind his eyes.

"... Well... /that/ worked." He glanced past the bard at the end of the room. "They're starting to call numbers. I'd better go."

"I'll be in the stands with your cheering section." Az licked his shin-guard playfully, and the two were gone. The bard's dark-blue uniform seeming to dissolve into the crowd.

Rolling his shoulders to settle the padding, Mason went to his section, the other first year qualifiers nervously talking amongst themselves. Seeking a quiet corner, he found himself next to Io Mathies, the oldest student in the 'freshman' class. The nineteen year old was calmly reading a rather battered copy of the Gideon Bible, but looked up to greet him with a nod.

"A little light reading?"

"Something like that, you ready, Squirt?"

"Just so long as I'm not facing /you/ in the qualifiers..." The candid comment elicited a laugh from the older boy.

"You'll do fine."

"Your mage in the audience?"

"Who, Audrey? Yeah... but after all we've been through just to /get/ here... She couldn't care less if I do well... not that I'd say no to a win, mind you..." Mason simply smiled in agreement and closed his eyes, waiting as they called out pairs of numbers, set by set.

"Fourteen... and thirty-six, for Preliminary Round 'A'!" He pushed through the crowd, saluting the grizzled man at the door.

"Fourteen here, Sir." 

Master Rolto looked him over and grinned. "Donnelly! Excellent, do your best son and remember... there's always next year."

"With all do respect sir, I think I'll concentrate on /this/ year." He was waived out into the sunny arena with a laugh, and shielding his eyes against the brightness, was greeted by a roar from the crowd. The people on the wooden bleachers around the ring were a chaotic blur, easily ignored. It was easy instead to notice things closer to hand, like the heat from the packed dirt under his boots, the way his jacket chafed ever so slightly against his right shoulder, and the way his opponent kept tapping his left toe against the ground -- digging a small furrow in the red dust. Every small detail seemed to be noted and catalogued, each was important. He took a breath, and nodded to the referee. 

// 'We who are about to die... salute you'... Isn't that how it goes...? I'm ready. // He crossed swords with the other boy, in the traditional greeting, and waited for the signal. 

// I've been ready all my life. //

-----------------------------------------

Mason could barely remember each fight as it happened, sweeping through the preliminaries as if sleep-walking. He was in his element, each movement seeming to flow from the last in an unending quest for perfection. Some opponents were faster, some flashier, but in the end each had a weakness, and were soon dispatched. His fourth and final challenger went down with a frustrated yell as he neatly tripped and pinned him. 

"Screw you, Donnelly!" The dark-haired boy blinked, jarred out of his rhythm by the unprofessional comment. For the first time that morning he looked, /really/ looked at his opponent. Roger was glowering at him from his sprawl on the ground, wiping the blood from his chin. Mason stared in surprise.

"Roger?!"

"Yeah... Be a /darling/ and help me up. I think you sprained something..." The blonde boy shook a wrist experimentally and hauled them out of the ring. "Come on semi-final's-boy... We got to let the upper-classmen play now..." They went back to their waiting-area where Mason found himself the unwelcome recipient of a lot of cheerful hand-shakes and 'congratulations'. 

"... Yeah... thanks... " He methodically checked his gear again before sitting in the corner once more, closing his eyes against the mob. After a few minutes, even the die-hard supporters took a hint and left him alone, something in the air around him making them feel jittery. After a few moments of almost-silence he cracked an eye to take a look around. The majority of the freshmen had been disqualified, and were now watching the older students fight with cheerful enthusiasm. One bench over from his corner, Mark Holdacher and Devo Rollands sat side by side, having a serious conversation, while Io was stretched out on another bench, seeming almost asleep. He rubbed his head, running a hand through his damp hair. The helmet had been lost earlier, as predicted. Mason felt odd, not ill, or bad in anyway, simply strange, like there was a mild electric current running through his body. Even sitting still, he was on full alert, ready to begin again at a moment's notice. For all his energy, his mind was blank, still coasting in a state of tranquil awareness. He tried to analyze the feeling, but it refused to cooperate, slipping through his fingers like reflections of light on water. Giving up on thinking for the moment, the dark-haired boy leaned against a nearby post, and attempted to copy his friend's doze. It seemed only moments later he was prodded gently in the knee.

Az sat at his feet, fur still sleek and spotless despite the dusty afternoon. He held a schedule card almost daintily between his teeth, waiting patiently like a bird-dog with its catch. Mason couldn't help but chuckle at the odd messenger and bent to retrieve the gift. On the front was a neat list of names, many already crossed off. The ones in circles were then copied over into the second set of blanks, giving him a rough idea of the next phase of the round robin.

// Oh good... nobody I really know personally this time... just a lot of upper-classmen... out for blood... // He gave the dog a quick scratch behind the ears, and on a whim, flipped the card over, smiling at what he found.

~ Do you Always fight this quietly? Just Kidding, fight however you please. You're doing great. We're in the top section by the oak tree, wave or Moimoi will never let you hear the end of it. She's still bitter about not being able to compete with the 'boys'.-- V. ~

// Poor Moi... // He tucked the paper into his jacket.

"Thanks for the note, Mutt... But shouldn't you be keeping an eye on our musical-misfit?" The animal shook itself, seeming to imply it wasn't a serious concern. "True... he is sitting with a gaggle of friends, how much trouble can he get into... if anyone tries something, Celeste will shriek to bring the house down." The dog nodded. "Then again, being a bard... I bet she /could/ too..."

"Number fourteen!" 

Mason stood, adjusting his shield. "Wish me luck, Az. Tell Val 'Thanks.'" He stepped out into the rig once more.

// Four more fights, and I make it to the finals...well... Samuel Mash, let's see what /you/ can do... // Mason kept his face passive as his opponent visibly fidgeted. There was no way he wasn't going to make it to the finals. His blade came up with an easy snap, hovering, waiting. The older boy was at a disadvantage, he had come directly from the preliminaries without a break, he sought to continue his momentum by driving immediately into the attack, hoping to put Mason on the defensive. The dark-haired boy allowed him a few moments of confidence, falling back and blocking the first set of blows. More awake now that before, he was surprised how little of his attention was necessary to keep his opponent at bay. He flaunted the fact by scanning the bleachers for Moimoi's characteristic braided hair-style. The female trainee and her friends were easy to spot. Also sitting next to her, dwarfed by her outlandishly beehive shaped hair, several of the mages -including Nelson- sat close together. Above their heads small balls of light seemed to spell out first 'Mason!' then 'Fight!', as well as other random cheers. He shook his head in disbelief. His opponent was starting to get annoyed.

"You just going to block all day? Or do you actually know how to fight?!"

He smiled. "I do... do you?" Surrendering his passive pose, he charged straight into the heavier boy, deflecting the sword outwards with his own, and landing an impressive -if unorthodox- right-hook across his jaw. The teen's helmet landed several feet away, as he frantically fell back and brought his sword up. Mason deliberately waved at his cheering section. The colored lights spelled 'Knock Out' as the students shouted. He brought his sword up again, blocking the first thrust, and using the pommel to deliver a punch to the chest, twisting out of the way of the angry return, he tagged the flailing boy in the back, setting him off balance again. This time he didn't wait for his challenger to recover, rolling and pinning him before he had a chance to recover. The match was won.

"Quicker than I expected." Mason offered a hand to the sullen trainee but was ignored. "Better luck next time."

"I can't wait to see Tom kick your ass..."

"He's welcome to try." He headed back to the side, an eye on the ever changing board of names. 'Donnelly:14' moved up another slot, now positioned beside 'West:23.' 

// Tom... good with knives, guns, blunt objects, women, and trombone... approx. 156 lb. 6 foot, drives a Harley. Great... why do I see myself doing a lot of dodging soon... // He wasn't surprised when he entered the ring to see the taller student leaning against the wall, checking his guns. // Yup, this is going to be a pain in the ass. //

The bullets wouldn't do any /real/ harm, or at least that was the /idea/. Accidents had been known to happen, especially to people without helmets. The rubber bullets each had a magical 'tag' on them, that would come off on an opponent, a shot in the arm or leg would partial numb you, affecting your mobility, a direct shot to the chest would instantly disqualify. Mason swung his sword in a short arc, loosening his muscles.

"This is as far as you go, kid... two of your friends just got disqualified... Mathies is next... Why don't you just 'walk' and go have a milk-shake or something. You're not going to beat me."

"Maybe." He nodded to the referee to signal he was ready.

The older boy smirked, "You're just as crazy as they say."

Mason simply smiled. Throwing himself to the left as the whistle blew. He felt the bullet tear through the space he had occupied, just missing his arm. 

// He's good. // He surged forward angling towards his attacker in a way that would make it awkward for the older boy to aim. Instinctively tilting his head, he felt a faint knick on his ear as he dodged another shot. // Very good. // He leapt into the air, bring his sword down in a controlled arc. Finding the young trainee suddenly too close to aim effectively, the Junior produced a second weapon with a flick of his finger, using the telescoping-pole to shield against the attack while bringing the hand-gun up to retaliate. Mason switched tactic mid-fall, using the blocking-rod as leverage as his foot lashed out to disarm. The gun went skidding along the ground.

"You little shit..." 

The pole twisted, throwing him back a few feet, but he didn't let it slow him, rolling to the right to scoop up the offending piece of artillery. The older student gave him no lee-way, charging immediately. The first shot was deflected off of the pole, as was the second. Then the tall boy was in striking range. Mason was obliged to drop the gun, needing two hands to defend against the stronger attacks. His mind still running faster than the battle itself, he saw an opening and he took it. The complex combination he executed wasn't something he had seen in his beginners classes, nor in any of the other he observed. As his hand flashed out to block the pole, all he could think about was the feel of the sun on his back, the smell of the sweet grass, the startled expression on the small asian man's face, as he first halted the pole then back-kicked into the knee. When the smaller men instinctively went into a more guarded position, it was a simple matter to use his leverage on the pole to set him off balance. It had only worked once, his dream-opponent had learned to loosen his grip on the weapon the second time. But the older student didn't know to let go, and was caught not only by the first painful kick, but by the second, and the set of quick punches that followed. He was obviously bruised when he rolled away, trying to gain precious distance. Mason stared at the pole now in his possession. 

// It /worked/... Who knew... // He shook his head, trying to shake loose of the tingling sensation building at the base of his skull. He was almost too preoccupied to notice that his opponent had drawn his second gun. The 'click' of the hammer was the only warning he had, watching as time seemed to slow to a crawl. He had no time to dodge. // This is /it/. //

The buzzing in his head grew louder, becoming a muted roar as he brought the blade up. 

/ How many bullets left? /

// New gun, six... maybe eight...? //

/ Very well. /

Time began again, gaining speed at a dizzying rate. He flipped the blade, flat-side front, catching the rubber projectile dead center and sending it whizzing into the dirt at the older boy's feet. The trainee stared in shock. Mason dropped the pole, charging once more.

// What am I doing?! I should be trying to dodge! //

/ Why bother. /

// If he hits me, I'm out! //

/ He won't hit you if you hit him first. /

He swatted the second bullet out of the air without breaking stride, the third went wide as the other student fell back to keep some space between them. The fourth went straight up, the gun-hand caught in a painful grip as Mason all but landed on the taller man. They went down in a tangle. 

/ It's over. / 

The dust cleared, and the dark-haired boy found himself straddling his opponent's chest, his sword pressed against the cringing throat. He was vaguely aware that he was surprised at the outcome, and part of him was waiting for the referee to claim foul, even as he pulled himself up and tried to orient himself. He went to stand in the shade as they announced his victory, afraid to move his head to fast for fear of getting too dizzy to stand.

// I don't remember getting hit in the head... //

/ Just take deep breaths, you're almost done... /

// I have to keep going... I want to /win/... Can't let them know anything's wrong... //

Slowly he looked up at the board, Io had made it to the finals. His next challenger's name was being announced.

"Number 4! Garris!" 

// Oh great... a Senior... //

/ Let's go. /

The student's attacks were different from before, but it took Mason a few minutes to realize it, his own internal struggle making it harder to pay attention to anything but the mechanics of the fight. After a brief but furious exchange of blows, they fell back, each taking the measure of the other. Then it hit him.

// He's... he's afraid of me...? //

/ He knows you'll win. /

// He does? //

/ Yes. Attack. Now. Aim for his left side. / The little voice was correct, discovering a weakness in the student's defense and opening up a deep scratch in the armor. Mason continued pushing forward, driving his shoulder into the man and throwing him against the wall with bone-jarring force. He tapped the stunned form with his sword.

"Yeild."

"Hell yes." The trainee accepted the hand and was pulled upright. They shook hands briefly, and the dark-haired boy tottered back to his bench, feeling more disjoint than before.

// I think my head's going to come off. //

/ Unlikely. /

// It feels like someone's pumped it full of helium... and since when did my cynical side get so chatty...? //

/ ... /

He closed his eyes, ignoring the crowds, and the fights, just trying to keep himself centered. It was with faint relief that he stood for the last Semi-Final match. His opponent was none other than Nelson's older cousin, Jim. They stared at each other a moment, nearly bursting into laughter. // Jim: 17, 176lb, 5'10", can bench 275 until the cows come home... makes a mean martini. //

/ Try remembering something useful for a change. /

// That /is/ useful! I /like/ martinis... //

/ Focus... you want to win... right? /

// He's /huge/... there's no way. //

/ You won't know until you try. /

"Mason, you're insane, you know that?"

"I'd have to be, I'm about to try and take you down."

The large boy grinned. "You just might, come on then... Let's see what you can do." Amazed at his own presumption, Mason lunged forward, trying for another quick victory. His legs were getting tired however, and the final burst of speed he needed just wouldn't come. He fought to shift his momentum into a safer move.

/ Too slow!/

The fist caught him across the face, and he fell, rolling painfully to his feet. The world seemed to tilt and spin making it hard to track the other trainee's movements. He brought the blade up, blocking a complex combination with sheer determination. When his chance came, he retaliated with a pattern of his own, again relying on his dreams to lead him correctly. Strength seemed to slowly flow back into tired muscles, giving him the edge he craved. No longer thinking at all, he attacked. Swords were all but abandoned as they clashed, their fight descending into a brutal dance of fists and feet. Every blow that landed seemed as if it hit someone else, the pain a distant and secondary concern. The fight was all that mattered. He felt the body underneath his fist stagger, guard down. The crowd looked on in awe as the smaller boy, hands pinned, delivered his final blow with his /head/. Skulls knocked together with an audible 'thud'. Mason staggered to his feet, staring at the groaning Junior in amazement.

// I... did it...? //

/... congratulations... /

// I did it. I'm in the Finals. //

He staggered around to look up into 'his' corner of the stands. The girls were cheering like banshees, and the mages were setting off what looked like small fire crackers. There was no sign of an unruly mop of black hair, or a large dog anywhere.

// Where is he...? He said he was going to watch... // There was no sign of the bard, but Mason kept scanning the crowd, beginning to feel a little worried. There was no break this time, his name immediately going up onto the board. The dark-haired boy squinted at the sign, still addled by the last fight.

/ Donnelly... and Mathies. /

// I have to fight Io! No way! //

/ You could forfeit. /

// Like Hell... I've come to far. //

/ Then we fight. /

Toweling the blood from his face, he hauled himself into the ring grinning wearily at his friend. "I knew it was too good to be true."

"You look like Hell, I can't believe the way you took that guy down... I was watching... Incredible."

"Thanks."

"You up to this? I can't go easy on you."

"We do what we must." The boys charged at the whistle, clashing in the center of the circle, testing each other's reserves. Mason worked them around in a circle, keeping one eye on the crowd as he fought. Io fell back, confused.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't find Val... he should be here..." Refusing to sacrifice the fight, he dove in, driving the taller trainee back. The fought to another natural pause, Io's face thoughtful.

"I can't see him either... you think there's a problem?" He lunged in, trying to strike a crippling blow at Mason's leg. The dark-haired boy leaped back, out of range.

"I dunno... Nothing I can do about it right now..."

"But still..." They circled each other, looking for opportunities, and bards. 

/ There! Ground-level, by the Entrance. / Mason nearly laughed in relief, jerking his chin to alert his friend that the problem was resolved.

"Oh good... I'd was afraid I'd have to forfeit so you could go look for the bastard..."

"You're too kind. Let's fight!" With matching grins they dove back into combat. As he dodged and twisted he caught fragments of the crowd, eyes unerringly seeking the familiar form at the gate. He was so focused on Valor, that for the next several attacks he didn't bother to take in any of the bard's surroundings. The thin boy was leaning against the fence, instrument over his shoulder, watching with worried interest. Out of the corner of his eye, Mason watched his friend lean to the side to make a comment to a friend. At first glance it looked like Celeste, a blur of gray silk and pale blonde hair. Spinning to deflect another attack, he got a closer look; and the world tumbled to a halt.

/ WAIT! /

/ /Him/... Who is he?! /

// That... that's not Celeste... //

/ It can't be /him/... can it? /

He deflected a swing without even looking, staring in confusion at the fence. The fine blonde hair was almost shoulder length, hanging loose around the thin face. The boy may have been effeminate, but on closer inspection he had nothing in common with the female bard. The clothing was rich, but not excessive, making him look delicate, almost doll-like. Smoky eyes watched him, both admiring and alarmed.

"/Mason/!"

"Mason!" Val's worried shout blended with Io's alarmed one, and he turned, watching in disbelief as his friend fumbled to redirect the blow he hadn't sensed coming. Too surprised to block, he was faintly glad the taller boy had twisted the blade enough that it only opened a cut down his cheek rather than taking out an eye, but there was no way to check his momentum. The taller by had no way to stop, crashing bodily into him. The guard and hilt of the weapon impacted hard with his temple, confused, he felt his knees give out. 

"Oh my God, Mason!"

"Mason!"

"Donnelly!"

"Shit, Mason!"

The object of their concern was only faintly aware of the various people vaulting the fence. He didn't notice Io's shaking hands trying to steady his neck, looking for fractures. He didn't even notice the pain as it tried to drag him into swirling darkness. Mason's eyes were fixed on the blonde figure in the distance, the face full of shock and dismay.

// He looks so sad. //

/ He looked so sad. /

He blinked, unable to focus any longer. All the emotions that he had pushed aside were boiling up, adding to the confusion. Joy mixed with pain and regret, desire added an edge of desperation to the whirlwind in his mind. It felt as though his head was about to explode.

"Mason, we're going to take you off the field... "

"... ok..." He closed his eyes, trying hard not to feel nauseous. 

//... What... What... just happened...? //

/ We lost. /

-----------------------------------------

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Notes: Damn, I tried my best to get to the action in this chapter, but it looks like all you get is a 'taste'... Well, I guess this means the /next/ chapter is going to be a real crowd pleaser (nervous giggle) a /lot/ more action... and a generous dollop of romance as well. Oh boy, I can't wait... ^_^ I'll get chapter 3 up ASAP, Just as soon as I go get Neil to autograph my Sandman books ^_^ Be patient! The 'good stuff' is coming up soon!

--Lunar

[http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com][1]

   [1]: http://www.roodinverse.homestead.com/



	4. Fool's gold

Looking3 ****

Looking for the Lost: part 3

Warning: Vagrant Story AU fic, some homosexual scenarios, language, and violence. 

***** THIS CHAPTER is Rated 'NC-17' !!!

(one scene at the dead-end of the chapter, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)*****

Notes: //...// represent thoughts.

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__

> When the evening falls and the daylight is fading,  
from within me calls - could it be I am sleeping?  
For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely.  
close to home - I cannot say.  
close to home feeling so far away.

> (Enya-Watermark-Evening Falls)

"So you're working in the library...?"

"What... the pay is alright, and I figure I can ride the train into 'DC on the weekends and do some good old fashioned busking... earn a bit more cash on the side..."

"Jesus... doesn't your family give you /anything/...?"

"Don't have one."

"... no kidding."

Mason got the distinct impression that he had inadvertently stuck his foot in his mouth and tried to swallow it. The bard's cheerful smile hadn't faded in the least, but there was something suddenly artificial, the expression a mask to something deeper and very private. // Damn, I knew it was /bad/ I mean he /never/ talks about his family, except to joke about his name and stuff... but I never thought... then again he always refers to them in the past-tense doesn't he... I had just never noticed...// He silently kicked himself and vainly searched for a safer line of conversation. The cafeteria was woefully empty, many of the students already gone away for their summer vacation.

"... Library... that's cool... I'm just going to stick with the classes... Dad's willing to pay if my grades are good... I dunno... maybe I should get a job too... keep me busy..."

Val laughed, "Like you're ever /not/ busy... I swear Maisie, the only time I saw you slow down this /whole/ year was at the end, and that was because you were flat on your back in the infirmary!" He pushed the remains of the bacon and eggs around on his plate for a moment longer before sighing and placing the dish on the floor. Az daintily picked at the offerings. "Why don't you go home...? You don't have to stay here on my account you know..." He watched his friend closely. "I don't mind being alone... and your mom didn't sound too pleased about you staying here all summer..."

"She'll get over it... besides, the military science classes are new this year... thought they looked interesting..."

"You really don't want to go home... do you..."

"It's not that..." Mason thought about his reasons for a moment, idly scratching the dog. "It's just that I don't want to go backwards..."

"Backwards?"

He grimaced, trying to explain. "I have this feeling that there's something that I should be doing... and all of this, growing up, going to school, getting strong... it's all just 'preparing' for this /thing/..." Val nodded encouragingly. "If I stop.... take a break, go home... then I'm not moving ahead... I'm just stalling, and I can't do that. I have to be ready, I'm only going to get one chance... I don't want to blow it."

"You won't." 

He grinned at the mage's simple reply. "Oh, you're so certain? I got creamed at the Tournament..."

"Yes, but anyone could've told you /that/... You didn't have a prayer..."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You'll come in first next year." The bard tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes mischievous. "Ah! I know!... I've figured out the /real/ reason you're staying..."

"Do I /have/ a 'real' reason?"

"If you don't have it yet, you're about too..." The smile was wicked. "Guess who /else/ is here for the summer...?" The trainee rolled his eyes, waiting. "... Only the 'love of your life'... Steven's taking classes too. Not that you'll care in the slightest..." The conspiratorial wink only served to make Mason blush deeper.

"Shut up, he's /not/ the 'love of my life'... I hardly know him..."

"Uh huh... And you make the /most/ adorable puppy eyes at him whenever he's around too... Ah... a 'first crush'... how touching..."

"You're such a jerk sometimes..."

"Hey now... I'm just looking out for your best interests! After all, he's my friend... you're my friend... you'd look terribly cute together..."

"What? How do you know that he's even..."

"He told me!" Valor winked, scooping up the trays and dropping them on the counter. "He also confessed to me that he thinks you're rather good looking... Just don't tell him I told you that... Not that you've managed to put more than five words together when he's around."

"It's hard to think of something to say, the guy never talks!"

"He's afraid you'll laugh at his accent! He's tired of getting beaten up just because he's not American. I assure you, once he gets to know you, he's anything but /shy/. He's quite...hmm, well you'll see."

"He has an accent? Who knew. And what do you /mean/ 'you'll see...' is there something wrong with him?"

"He's fine! Absolutely charming, I had two classes with him last year... So, you going to ask him out?"

"I'm /not/ having this conversation with you...." Resolutely forcing the blush to fade, Mason hastily excused himself and fled. The bard clucked his tongue in amusement, watching the flustered boy's departure.

"I dunno Az... this is gonna be interesting..." The animal simply licked his fingertips.

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"You've really done it this time.... you big idiot." The gentle caress on his face took any venom out of the casual statement, and Mason couldn't help but smile. The last several hours were nothing but a blur of pain and many voices talking loudly around him, but none had penetrated the thick fog he felt himself hovering in. It had been disorienting and unpleasant at first, but then the mist seemed to shift, and he was no longer alone. The blonde man's smile was full of chagrinned wonder as he cradled the trainee's head in his lap. 

The dark-haired boy blinked, trying to force his eyes to focus. Gradually the sunny field swam into existence around them, the warm air soothing upon his face. Too tired to speak, he closed his eyes and allowed his dream lover to run his fingers through his hair. On a whim he caught one of the long-fingered hands, bringing it to his lips in a chaste kiss. The action elicited a chuckle from the blonde but the handsome man's comments were lost in a haze as he drifted into a deeper sleep.

He almost awoke some time later, drifting in and out of sleep enough to make out a gentle melody threading through the darkness. Feeling no motivation to fight against exhaustion, he allowed the music to soothe him back to sleep. Some uncertain time later, he roused again, this time lulled again by a steady murmur, the words unintelligible as the chant continued. When he /did/ at last revive enough to open his eyes, it was into a silent room. He blinked at the cracked paint on the ceiling as he tried to gather his thoughts. 

// I... He was here... wasn't he...? How long have I been out...? // His body felt remarkably relaxed, almost numb. Instead of the aches and pains that he'd have expected after the abuse of the Tournament, there was only a pleasant lazy sensation. Mason flexed his hands, trying to shake some life into them. The movement triggered a slight gasp of surprise from nearby. Alarmed, the trainee tried to sit up but was halted by a gentle hand on his chest.

"You shouldn't move... not yet... you were hit quite hard in the head..." The voice was hesitant and soft, the English sounding strangely awkward. Feeling a deep sense of déja vu, the trainee held still, staring in wonder at his visitor. It was the mage from the previous day's Tournament. Blue-gray eyes watched him with concern as he edged into a more comfortable position on the infirmary bed. Grasping for something to break the odd tension, Mason finally found his voice.

"You... you're a friend of Val's... aren't you."

The blonde smiled, still looking as if he was about to bolt. "Um... yes... I should go get him... he'll be happy to know you're awake. We've been taking turns watching you..."

"... We...?"

The mage blushed, "Val, Anton, Nelson, and a few others..." They were all determined that you get healed up in time for the Spring Ball... but... well... I'll just go and get him..."

"... wait." Mason felt as though his head was packed in wool, but he couldn't let the nervous boy vanish quite yet. "... how long have I been out...?"

"Almost four days..." The student turned to leave again.

"...wait." He felt idiotic for asking, but couldn't stop himself. "What's your name?"

"Me...? Oh... I'm Etienne... Um I mean Steven, people here call me Steven." 

The trainee smiled, unsure why. "Thanks." He let his head fall back on the pillow as the blonde finally fled, watching the late afternoon sunlight paint patterns on the bare walls. The silence didn't last long, a distant barking heralding the coming onslaught as the door burst open to emit a crowd of people. The large black animal wound around the tangle of legs to climb up onto the bed. Mason laughed and gave the long muzzle a familiar pat.

"Hello Az. Sorry I slept in."

"...Sorry...? What the hell are you sorry for? /He's/ the one who's supposed to be sorry..." Val jerked his head to the door where Io was just entering. The older boy gave an apologetic grin. 

"Hey Io..."

"Hey..."

"I can't believe you won, you jerk." Nelson was never a man to pull punches, and sitting in his scarlet silks he resembled nothing so much as an irate parrot. The tall trainee looked at him in alarm as he pushed through the crowd towards the bed.

"Oh don't get your garter's in a twist, peacock." Moimoi's braids were down from their traditional buns for a change and swung in dangerous arcs as she whirled to face her favorite verbal sparing partner.

The rest of the odd group merely watched them in amazement as they squabbled. Mason felt his hand being patted and looked up at a dusky mage. Anton had quietly slipped around the bed, mimicking Val's worried stare. "You look alright... Jesus you gave us all a scare going down like that..."

"I thought I'd killed you for a second."

"We thought you had too! Man, Io, Az nearly took your arm off!"

He looked at the cheerfully panting animal lounging on the sheets. "You were defending /me/? Wow... thanks Az!" The dog seemed to sniff disdainfully as the other guardian trainee chuckled.

"That brute seems to genuinely like you... or maybe he was responding to his master... /someone/ was certainly worried about you."

Val blushed slightly. "Shut up, Mathies... Or I'll be obliged to tell Karen's Floor Mother exactly /where/ she was the other night."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"We're /engaged/ for Christ's sake!"

"Rules are rules..."

Mason grinned as he watched the bard masterfully manipulate the older boy. As they settled down he looked at them closer and blinked in surprise. //... Three days... Steven said I was asleep three days? That means the big party is... tonight?! // Everyone, even Moimoi, was dressed in their social best, looking as though they were about to head off to dinner. He laughed in amazement at the tall girl's blue and white dress. It's skirt was a frothy mass of pleats and ruffles.

"You want a one-way-ticket back to 'slumber-land'?!" She curled a fist threateningly, the usually sobering gesture only made her outfit more absurd. He wiped the tears from his eyes. 

"You look like Dorothy on the way to kick the Wizard's ass..."

"Damn straight. And if that 'Tin man' tries anything... 'Wham'! 'Bam'! He'll be needing a lot more than an oil-can when I'm done... we're talking grievous bodily harm..." Nelson chuckled nervously at her toothy smile.

"Wait... you and /Nelson/...? How the hell did /that/ happen?!" This time it was Valor who broke out laughing, pausing to straighten his bow-tie.

"It appears... someone /else/ lost at 'Truth or Dare' as well the other night... Of course I can now plead that you're in need of company and get out of /mine/..."

Mason grinned. "Where /is/ Celeste anyway...?"

"Probably pacing a hole into the lawn outside the Girls Hall... I was supposed to meet her there five minutes ago." A general snigger of delight went up from the others in the room as they recognized his imminent peril. Val simply shrugged, "Az will keep her from doing anything /too/ permanent... I hope."

The crowd merely jeered in delight, people coming and going for several minutes to wish him a speedy recovery. At last even Anton was pulled away, his date dragging him bodily by the lapel of his tux. It was with some relief that Mason found himself alone with the bard once more. A gentle hand rested on his forehead a moment, assessing his temperature.

"I'm fine. You should go..."

"I'd rather stay here..." The black-haired boy grinned ruefully. "She really is going to kill me..."

"Nah, she'll be too enchanted by the sight of you in a tux to care... what will Az do while you wine and dine though? Are they actually going to let him in?" The dog whined in annoyance.

"Unfortunately no... Hey... there's an idea... Az! You're going to stay here and keep Mason company!" The animal seemed to stare at them both quizzically for a moment before nodding and settling himself at the end of the bed. Valor smiled in delight. "There now... Now I can leave and not worry... I'll be back soon, OK? I just have to do this party thing..."

"No problem... hey Val..."

The bard turned, his hand on the door knob. "Yes...?"

"... Who's Steven? How come you never introduced him before...?"

He smiled mysteriously. "Steve's a friend... as for you not meeting him... well let's just say he hasn't been around lately. He took a semester off to visit family. Why? You see something you /like/...?"

Mason may have been tired, but he had more than enough energy to hurl the pillow. The bard ducked with a laugh before heading out. "Hey Val..."

The thin boy turned melodramatically. "... yes...?"

"You look good in a tux."

"Go to sleep, Donnelly." The door was quietly but firmly closed behind him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"I really don't think this is a good idea..." Steven nervously flattened the rich material in his jacket, feeling overdressed next to the bard. The taller boy had all but kidnapped him from his room, insisting that he needed to take a walk in the park. He would've disagreed, but Valor's dog had suddenly shown a deep interest in his homework. Somehow he doubted the teachers would believe him if he told them tomorrow that 'the dog ate it' even if Az /was/ almost infamous on campus. 

"Nonsense, it's summer! You should be outside, enjoying yourself!" 

"Everybody's looking at me... /He/ is going to laugh... this is never going to work."

"I told you to buy a pair of jeans when we went shopping... but nooooo you thought they were ugly.... As for the rest, don't worry, my plan is fool proof!"

"You'd better be right about this. Remember the deal!"

"Hey, I wouldn't have taken the job if I thought for a second Mason didn't like you."

"Yes well..."

"Trust me Steve... someday, they'll even wear blue-jeans in France.../and/ by that time you will have undoubtedly seen more of Maisie than you can stomach for a life time. Oh, and one more thing, although I know I've told you before." The bard gave him a sharp look. "Break his heart... and I'll kill you." The blonde merely shook his head and laughed, dismissing the absurd idea. He was just beginning to relax and enjoy the evening when they turned a corner on the path and Val raised a hand in cheerful greeting. The mage stared in mortification first at the lounging boy, then at the bard, then down to the ground. The ground was safe. His face was feeling decidedly flushed. The trainee seemed to be similarly surprised, stammering a greeting at his smiling friend. 

"Mason, you know Steven of course... I thought the three of us could amuse ourselves at the park for a bit... you know... kill time on a Saturday night..."

"You just want to hear the out-door band they have over by the pond." Mason fell in step, silently nodding a greeting to the nervous blonde. Val shook his head in dismay as they walked on either side of him, studiously not saying anything to one another.

// Oh this is really ridiculous... how're they ever going to get together if they don't talk?! This requires drastic measures... // The bard sighed and steered them around the park, taking one of the more wooded paths. After several tries he got both of them into a rather limping conversation. Mason was trying to explain how he took classes at the near-by military academy, but it was obvious that the foreign student was rather lost. Valor tried to steer the conversation onto safer ground. Luckily he had a trump he could play. // If this doesn't work, I'll shoot myself. //

"I wonder if guardians in France get the chance to learn how to fly helicoptors too... What do /you/ think Steve? Or is the military there a little too uptight?"

The mage blinked thoughtfully. "I... really don't know... by the time they knew I needed to go to school, the war had broken out and everything was all muddled. That's why I was sent /here/, my family wanted me to have a 'normal' education... everything back home is still being rebuilt."

Val sneaked a peak at the trainee on his left. The tanned boy was staring in disbelief. "You're from /France/...?"

The blonde blushed a bright pink. "Um... yes..."

"No kidding! That's amazing! Your accent is really soft."

"Where the hell did you think he was from, Mason?"

"I dunno, Canada or something!"

Steven began to laugh. The other two students' squabbling was so relaxed and free, there was no way not to be entertained by it. He couldn't miss the wink that the bard aimed his way as he promptly found himself the center of attention, the trainee wanting to know all about his home and family. It had never occurred to him that his background would ever be an advantage. Most people remembered southern France only as Nazi sympathizers, usually it was easier to pretend to be from Quebec. However once he had gotten to know Val, he realized that there was an entire population of students at the school who couldn't care less where he was from, or what his neighbors were accused of. Maybe they weren't the most popular students, but they were far more interesting, and they accepted him instantly. Given his own background, he wasn't about to shun someone just because they had darker skin, an extra eye or a pair of horns. 

"So, what does your family /do/...?"

He smiled again, still stunned that the taller boy was interested. "Well... my dad's a lawyer actually..."

Valor grinned, slowly allowing himself to fall back behind the animatedly talking pair. // Who's the man... /I'm/ the man... // All that was left to do was to initiate 'phase 2'. He had to admit a slight curiosity as to what Az had in mind. His usually silent companion had insisted /he/ would arrange the diversion to extract him from the threesome. Once the two were alone, Val felt the rest was out of his hands. // They'll either hit it off... or it's not my fault. // They walked lazily towards the sunny fields surrounding the pond and outdoor stage. It was full of people throwing Frisbees and having picnics.

// And if they /do/... well now I won't day no to a bit of a reward... any time now Az... Where /are/ you? //

// Uphill, coming up on the left. Act like you recognize me. //

// ...what? What are you up to? //

From behind a crowd of rowdy college students, a lanky teenager walked towards the path, raising his hand in silent greeting. His face was mostly hidden in the shadow of the nondescript baseball cap, but there was something wonderfully familiar about the dusty black jeans and T-shirt. Val paused to make sure he wasn't staring in amazement before returning the hail. // You jerk! /Warn/ me when you do that! //

// Sorry, it seemed the easiest. Do you want them to know? //

// No. No it's better that they don't. // He changed direction, heading across the grass as the other two went on ahead. He didn't get more than ten feet before Mason noticed the change. 

"Val?"

"It's ok! I just see someone I haven't talked to in a while! I'll catch up with you later!" The dark-haired boy hesitated for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. "Stop worrying Maisie! He's a friend!" With a final wave at the startled pair, he linked arms with the black-clad teenager and steered him back across the field. On a whim he snatched off the cap, settling it on his own head. His escort shrugged and pulled a pair of sunglasses out of a pocket.

"I'm someone you haven't talked to in a while...?" 

"Well I haven't! Usually we just /think/ at each other..." He gave a playful tug to the short pony tail, secretly delighting in the silky black hair.

"Stop that."

"Spoil sport, if you didn't want it tugged then why make it so long?"

Az simply shrugged, pulling the bard along as he aimed for a shadier section of the park. "So... what do you want to do?"

The musician smiled wickedly. "As I just happen to have five dollars in my pocket... I think first, I'd like some icecream."

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// "Go on! For once in your life, go out and enjoy your damn self! You /like/ him don't you? So why not enjoy it?" // 

Mason shrugged at the well remembered arguments, nervously scuffing a foot in the dewy gravel. The lobby of the mage dormitories had felt unbearably stuffy and hot, even this early in the day, and he had quickly retreated outdoors. He hated waiting. // This is all well and good for /you/ Val... /You/ took off at the crack of dawn today to catch the metro train... by now you're probably singing the money out of the tourist's pockets and laughing yourself sick.// The trainee had gone with the bard on previous weekends, more out of curiosity than any ability to aid the worldly student. He had no musical talent worth mentioning, but had spent his time alternately listening to his friend, and wandering the multitude of museums and historical sites that the nation's capitol could provide. At first he had worried for the mage's safety, but as each week of the summer rolled by uneventfully, the idea that the older boy was at any risk seemed distant and improbable.

// More likely, whoever was after him forgot all about it... it's been /years/ after all... hasn't it? // The other reason for his gradual relaxation of worry suddenly put in an appearance with a rustle of linen and corduroy. 

"Hey, sorry I'm late... I just... Well never mind."

// He preens more than anyone I've ever met... Well maybe not Nelson, but still, it's worth it. He was always preening in my dreams too. // He took a moment to appreciate the view, the tousled golden hair looking still-damp in the morning sun. 

"No problem. Shall we go?" Mason gallantly gestured down the path, smiling.

The blonde fought hard to suppress his grin, "You, are a very odd man."

"Ah, but do I amuse you?" The dark-haired boy couldn't help but tease, never ceasing to be amazed by the variety of smiles the mage could produce.

"Yes, damn you. Come on... you promised to take me on a picnic!"

"When did you get so demanding? Jeez it seems only yesterday you were afraid to talk to me!" He couldn't help but laugh at the patently wheedling expression. The blonde was simply too adorable when he tried, again it was with a feeling of déja vu that he impulsively grabbed the boys hand and pulled him into town. "If it's a picnic you want, then a picnic you shall have... but first? Provisions! To the grocery store!"

"Hurray!" Steven was more than happy to be hauled along in the morning air, looking ahead at the dark-boy holding his hand he felt his heart give a little lurch. It was going to be a /perfect/ day. The trainee looked back, admiring the happy mage.

// God, Val was right. I'm /crazy / for him... He's the /one/... I just know it... All my dreams... I've waited so long for you... Etienne... I've found you... // Mason felt the urge catch the boy in his arms and spin them both until they were too dizzy to stand, but in the end contented himself with giving the hand in his a gentle squeeze as they jogged. There would be time enough for everything, he'd make sure of that. /This time/ he'd get everything right.

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Val tucked the ticket into his pocket, carefully checking that his earnings were safely stowed. It had been a most profitable day. He grinned as his fingers felt for the modest wad of bills. Knowing he had at least fifteen minutes to kill before the next train out of the city he settled on a bench, guitar case carefully tucked between his knees. His ever watchful familiar sat on the bench beside him, calmly observing the masses of people moving about the station.

// Gah... a beautiful day... pocket full of money... Az watching my back... and Mason actually enjoying himself without being held at gun point... can life get any better? I doubt it... // He reached to give the animal a loving scratch behind the ears.

"We've come a long way, you and me, ehhhh mutt?" The dog looked at him curiously. "What do you think... will Mason be wearing his 'I got lucky' smile when we get back?" Az snorted doubtfully. "Yeah ok, not likely... but if ever there was a teenager badly in need of a lay... He's been dragging his feet all summer..." He ruffled the animal's fur playfully. A strong breeze swept through the airy platform, causing him to shiver slightly. Blindly reaching for his jacket, his hands came up empty. It was gone.

"Awe fuck, I bet I left it by the hotdog cart outside... Az?"

// I... I don't remember /where/ you put it... Sorry. //

Valor glanced up at the station's ornate clock. "And /of course/... the train is about to arrive... Az, be a darling and go see if you can nab the damn thing for me? You can run a lot faster than I can..." 

The black dog hesitated a moment, scanning the room for anything amiss, but finding nothing to justify its paranoia, trotted quickly towards the exit. Val watched his familiar weave through the crowds and glanced down the tracks, happily whistling a tune. He never noticed the two men who settled on the bench behind him. The cloth that was clamped over his face came as a complete surprise, the sickly sweet smell of chloroform causing his eyes to tear as he desperately struggled to pull free of his captors.

// /AZ/! ... h- // 

"Shut him /up/! NOW!" A heavy object cracked painfully against the bard's skull sending him into a whirling darkness. "Quickly! Before the /creature/ comes back!" The slender form was rapidly hauled over the larger man's shoulder, the two men pushing their way through the alarmed crowd to hustle into a dark car. The vehicle peeled away from the curb before the doors finished closing. Alerted by the half-finished warning, Az raced back into the station, sniffing worriedly around the abandoned guitar. It took only a moment to bolt out the other door and check the street, but he was too late. The vehicle lost in the downtown traffic.

Az paced back and forth nor a nervous minute, desperately seeking out the mind of his master, but he found himself thwarted. The bard was well guarded, his presence muted. // Damn it, I /knew/ I shouldn't have left! // Beneath the frantic canine demeanor, something far older, and stronger began to awake. /Someone/ had taken Valor, Az was /angry/.

// If they think I can't track them... they're wrong... //

"Well well... a stray dog...? Here laddie... let's see if you have a collar..." He shied away from the well-meaning station attendant, darting back towards the guitar case to once again be caught, indecision making him pause. "Hey! crazy mutt... get back here!"

// Damnit, this /isn't/ going to work if all these moronic mortals keep getting in my way! I can't function in a city this large without Val... there are too many rules! But I /have/ to get him /back/!... But he'll be upset if I hurt innocents... // Mind made up, the dog carefully grabbed the instrument case's handle and sprinted out of the station, much to the amazement of the bystanders. 

// First things first. Get Mason... he'll know what to do... // No one paid any attention to the familiar as it skidded around the corner, no one noticed how between one stride and the next, the guitar mysteriously vanished. Az continued to gain momentum, moving at speeds that put first dogs, then even the train to shame. His form was a black streak across the farmland. His purpose set, he knew what had to be done, an internal clock had started ticking, counting the minutes before the situation became an emergency. He respected Valor, and did his best to please the gentle mage, but under no condition would he risk the boy's life over a question of propriety. If he had to, he would do things /his/ way, and to hell with the consequences.

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"What are you thinking about...?" Steven wrapped his arms a little tighter against the well muscled chest. At first he had been a little worried that the other boy would think him too aggressive, his pretended attempt to 'pounce' him from behind nothing more than a poorly disguised desire to touch the tanned skin. To his surprise and delight, the trainee merely laughed at the attempt and leaned back slightly into the impromptu embrace.

"Nothing much... just dreams... and you."

"Really?"

// It's taken him so long to get relaxed with me... Not that I mind being 'adored'... but he's so old fashioned! No matter, he's /mine/... Everyone else can /try/ and flirt, but he's /mine/... I can't wait until school starts again! They'll be crying in envy, Val was a fool to let him slip away. And he's /so/ beautiful... everything a Guardian should be, tall and strong, watchful and silent, gorgeous chocolate eyes, and the /stamina/... and he wants to be /with me/... This is better than I could've hoped. And they say the 'good' ones are always taken... // Feeling Mason surrender even the pretense of fishing at the lazy stream, he took a chance an snuggled closer. // It almost makes me wish he was my 'first'... not that I think /anyone/ could hold a candle to /this/. And I /know/ I'm /his/ first... If he wasn't so conservative, damn but I'd be tempted to see how far he'd be willing to go, alone in the woods... on a perfect summer day... how terribly bucolic. //

It had been an amazing summer, with the relaxed atmosphere on campus there had been ample opportunity for the two boys to meet, and talk, among other things. Steven frankly found Mason's hesitance to be charming. // He's so different than the others... so serious... and when he looks at me I swear... he could make a person /melt/ with those dark eyes of his... not bad... not bad at all... // Fighting the urge to smile smugly, he slowly placed a kiss at the crook of the golden-brown neck, watching the muscled shoulders twitch in surprise. 

// And thank you God, for convincing him that fishing was best done with one's shirt off... It's worth it, even if it /does/ encourage me to think wicked thoughts... //

"What are you...?" Mason attempted to turn so he could face the blonde perched behind him, but found himself halted. Slim hands held him in place for a moment, hot against his bare shoulders as the delicate mouth trespassed against his skin a second time, placing another kiss against his neck. He fought the urge to sigh in pleasure and held perfectly still. The mage seemed to enjoy the little game, becoming more bold as he wasn't shaken off. The Guardian's flesh tasted of salt and summer as he continued to kiss the areas within reach, making sure to keep them as chaste as possible.

// He's enjoying this... I /know/ he is... If only I don't scare him off... Take it slow... make him /want/ it... oh God but I /hate/ waiting... I wonder what will it be like... when he /does/... // Steven couldn't help but blush at the little fantasy. He could almost feel the strong arms around him, being pressed back into the grass, the trainee's mouth against his hard and passionate. He shivered, laying his kisses close together, letting them become more eager. // What would it be like to have you /want/ me... // The body in his arms twitched and turned, breaking the thread of his thoughts as he pulled away, uncertain. The dark-haired trainee was watching him, his eyes lost in the shadows beneath his longish bangs. The mage was frozen, transfixed by the sound of their ragged breathing. Without a word, he was pulled close again, wrapping his arms once more around the taller boy. 

// What now... Mason... what will you let me do? // He felt the trainee's tense muscles under his hands, and on a whim stroked them appreciatively. The other boy looked away a moment, as if trying to get himself oriented. // No... I don't want you 'reasonable'... you're too damned 'reasonable', and 'responsible', and several other '-ibles' as well... I'm sure... No...right now I want you just as you are, off balance, excited... watching me. You're /mine/... //

"Look at me, Mason..." The request came out a breathy whisper, but served its purpose. The dark eyes immediately riveted on his face. "You're so beautiful..." Knowing he wouldn't be refused, he leaned in closer, eyes closed in anticipation for the kiss. Lips brushed once, twice, with feather like touches, before the arms around his back tightened, pulling them together. There was nothing amateur about the kiss, much to Steven's surprise. It wasn't until much later however that he gave the matter any thought, completely distracted by the seductive movement of lips and tongue against his own. It was almost a game, each trying to dominate the other, to taste the other, to explore the new and secret places. He was dizzy by the time they broke for air, clinging to Mason as he panted for breath. The trainee allowed him only a short respite, gently nuzzling his neck, sliding the loose collar of his shirt aside to place kisses further along his shoulder. The mage laughed in amazement, at the sudden reversal, pulling the head close once more, determined to become intoxicated on the flavor of fresh grapes, the last thing they had consumed from the now empty basket. 

// Oh yes... this is far more entertaining then /fishing/... more like one of my more exotic dreams... //

"You're a dream..." The trainee's words unconsciously echoed his sentiments and he laughed again, sprinkling the serious face with light teasing kisses. There was no doubt in his mind that there was nothing to stop them from spending the rest of the evening in the pleasant past-time. It all came to a bewildering end however, as Mason abruptly pulled away, silencing his complaint with a finger across the lips. Steven followed the dark-boy's gaze into the trees, but it took several moments before he understood. In the distance a dog was barking, a sharp angry repetition that sounded more alarming as it drew nearer. He would have happily clung to his would-be-lover, but instead found himself gently, but firmly detached. The trainee standing up, tensed and ready.

"Mason...? What...."

// Damn it. When I find who's responsible... //

The dark eyes that met his were now worried, and deadly serious. "It's Az.... Something's happened."

// ... Val...? // He frowned, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. With an explosion of greenery, the animal broke into the clearing and came to a splashing halt in the stream. Its eyes glowed balefully in the half-light as it stared directly at Mason. The mage inched backwards unconsciously, frightened as he had never been before by the black dog. It had never seemed less 'dog' like than it did now. The canine shape barely contained the rage he felt emanating from with in. Kneeling fearlessly next to the creature, Mason caressed its head.

"Shhh... calm down... what happened...?"

Steven watched in alarm as the other boy's face grew blank and still, he and the animal seemingly frozen as they stared at one another. They remained statue-like for several minutes, Mason's expression growing darker by the moment. Until at last he flinched, surging to his feet with a growl. The eyes when they turned to meet his, were uncanny.

"Etienne. Go back to campus. Stay there till we get back." The instructions were clipped, brooking no disobedience.

// Scary.... is this what they call 'Guardian Eyes'...? Like his world's been reduced to 'obstacles' and 'goals'... and I'm sure as hell not the later... Damn you Val, you're my friend, but damn you... Every time I think I've 'got' him... he drops everything and goes running off to be with you. You'd better be /really/ in trouble... //

"What 's going on...!" He fought to keep the tremor from his voice as Az growled again.

The trainee blinked, before forming the words carefully. "Val's been kidnapped."

// Awe, shit. //

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// Mason! There's no time. We have to go /now/! // Az restlessly paced back and forth as the trainee grabbed for weapons, casually tucking ammunition into his coat pockets.

"I know, I know... I'm hurrying. But how the hell are we going to find him? DC is a /big/ city, if we're going to play 'Hot and Cold' it could take all week!"

// I should be able to pinpoint the general area fairly quickly, after that... I don't know... they're 'blurring' him somehow...I cannot get a clear fix on him, nor can he hear me. //

"There, good to go." Mason pulled the door shut. "How can /I/ hear you, anyway... You've never talked to me /before/..."

// There was never a need. //

"Great... thanks, I think. So what do we do now? Train?" He watched the animal growl anxiously, expecting the response even before it came.

// Too slow... we need to be there /now/. // 

"I hate to break it to you, but unless we can /fly/ we aren't going to do better than the train... "

// ... unless we teleport. //

"And who the hell will teleport us? /I'm/ no mage, and I don't know any seniors!"

// I can do it. //

"What?!" Mason stared at the animal in shock. The dog put its ears back nervously.

// Unfortunately it means breaking ... /several/ promises to Valor... // Az watched him silently seeming to come to some internal decision. // It can't be helped, he'd be even angrier if I tried to do this on my own... I need you to keep me from doing anything /too/ noticeable. //

"Sounds like this has happened before..."

// Sort of. It's a long story, Mason... Valor wasn't precisely accurate with his description of me... I'm not a familiar. // 

The trainee resisted the urge to laugh at the embarrassed statement, simply raising an eyebrow curiously. "Yeah, I kind of guessed that... What are you then...? Demon?"

The dog shrugged. // Something like that. To teleport, I need to return to my more powerful form... try not to be alarmed. // 

"Woah! You can shape change?"

// You thought I was /always/ a dog? Now hush. I need to concentrate. //

Mason watched in alarm as the dog laid down and closed its eyes. There was no one else around the dusky campus, the evening air was placid and heavy as the sun sank lower. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, and the it was as if all the shadows in the area ran like water towards the crouching animal, covering it in an impenetrable blackness. He resisted the urge to fall back several feet, and stood still, shivering in the sudden cold. The feeling of power gathering around him triggered a memory, something from one of his dreams. There had been another time when he had felt this burning energy, he had held it in his hands and used it to destroy those who stood against him. He concentrated, trying to remember something explicit, but there were only fragments, everything chaotic and wild, the feeling of black fire, a rain of white feathers, and a momentary terrifying sight of his lover on the ground eyes wide in shock as a sword pierced his chest. 

// No!... // The image was uncanny, seeming to strike a nerve deep inside. He came back to himself with a shake, finding his sword out and ready in his hand. 

"Mason?" The voice, low pitched and dry, pulled his focus outward, away from his suddenly wild emotions. He forced himself to calm down and looked up, only to be startled again. It was the boy from the park.

"/You/..?!" The trainee took in the faded jeans and black turtleneck in amazement. "/You/ were /Az/...?" An elegant eyebrow quirked cynically. 

"Yes."

The familiar casually inspected himself, dusting off the denim briefly before producing a hair-tie from someplace and pulling back the shoulder-length mass. The hair, like almost everything else, was a deep glossy black. The creature looked almost human, only the eyes were out of place. Mason resisted the urge to shiver every time the flickered across him. Black-on-black, they gave no sign of iris or pupil, seeming to deflect all the light that came near them. He had the impression that they didn't miss much. Although Az now stood at his height, it felt as though he was much taller, his presence almost palatable. The trainee was distantly reminded of a statue cut out of onyx and marble, even the ordinary clothing seemed part of the mystique.

He pulled himself together, refusing to babble. "So you look human now. Great. Can we go?"

Az blinked, and suddenly his aura vanished, seeming to dissipate into the twilight. "Yes. Come along." A firm hand closed around Mason's fore-arm and he found himself dragged further behind the dormitory. The black-clad teen concentrated a moment, listening to something that only he could hear, and then reopened his disturbingly featureless eyes. "I need to be closer to him before I can start tracking."

"Let's go to DC then, and get our bearings? How many times can you cast this spell?"

"As many as necessary." 

"Wait, try and land us someplace where nobody's looking, ok? If you're not supposed to be doing this, perhaps subtle is better?"

The changeling blinked in surprise, then looked confused. "I hadn't thought of that... Where do you recommend?"

"I don't know! Maybe a closet or something?"

"No good, I can only 'jump' to places I've already been, or that are in line-of-sight... Valor has never been in a closet in the city."

Mason sighed in exasperation. "Fine, where /have/ you been?"

Black eyes, blinked, inspiration dawning. "I know a place." The trainee didn't even have time to voice his doubts as the world around them suddenly began to blur and shift in a stomach-turning way. His shout became a distorted garble to his ears and he forced himself not to flinch out of the familiar's steely grip. Reality reasserted itself with a white porcelain glare. Finding himself suddenly in far too close quarters with his companion, Mason lurched back, bumping into the linoleum barrier. The metal toilet paper holder dug painfully into his back.

"Daaaah!" Staggering out of the stall and looking around in amazement, he was startled to recognize his surroundings. The ornate clock hanging above the row of mirrors and sinks confirming his suspicions. They were in the first-floor men's room of the Smithsonian Museum of History. "Jesus, /warn/ a guy when you're about to do that!" Still trying to settle his stomach, he paused to splash some water on his face. Az, simply stood, unconcerned with his surroundings, watching the guardian's antics with curiosity.

"What's wrong?"

"A /Bathroom/?!"

"You said go where there wouldn't be people. The museum closes at six, thus this place would be empty."

"Why not in the /hall/?" His shock fading, he began to start to see the humor of the situation. The familiar's blank stare only adding to his urge to start laughing.

"There might be night watchmen..."

"Right, Right. So /now/ we're inside a locked-down building... now what?"

Az's tight smile was even more uncanny than his eyes. "Now, we /hunt/."

"Oh... /right/... Ok Scooby-Do, let's go get Shaggy."

"What?"

"Nevermind... Dumb joke."

Mason shrugged at the uncomprehending look and waved for the familiar to get on with it. Az listened again, seeming to find what he was looking for, and abruptly grabbed the trainee's sleeve, transporting them to a new location. For his part, Mason was faintly glad that he hadn't had time to eat. 

Narrowing down the search area to a rather rundown warehouse district was a quick procedure. The familiar paused after every jump, seeming to gage his distance and direction before yet another /lurch/ and a new location. The trainee got fleeting impressions of any number of shady alleys and even once, the inside of a phone booth. He was very glad when he felt his arm released, signaling a stop to the unpleasant ordeal. He felt distinctly queasy.

"Are you alright?" The unemotional delivery of the inquiry only added to the surreal feeling of the past hour. Forcing his stomach to behave, he slowly took a breath and looked around. They were perched on the second-floor balcony of a fire escape.

Knowing it was stupid, he still had to ask. "What the hell were you and Valor doing playing on a fire-escape in a neighborhood like this?!"

"Don't be stupid. Valor was never here."

"But you said."

"We rode a trolley around town one day on our way to harbor, it drove down this street."

"You have a really good memory."

"Yes." 

Sighing in disbelief, he casually kicked the ladder down, providing them access to the street. "Well... we're /here/... now what?"

"He's nearby. One of these..." Az waved a hand to imply the rows of massive metal buildings.

// There must be over 25 of these things... /don't/ tell me we have to go through them all! //

"You have to be kidding. Come /on/ there has to be a way of pinpointing it... "

"I could just knock them down one-by-one and see who comes out..."

Mason looked at him in disbelief, he wasn't joking. "Right... well I'll take the ones on the right then... How will I get your attention if I find anything?"

"Thinking should be sufficient. I'll hear you."

"Wait, you can hear my thoughts? /all the time/...?"

"Of course."

Mason opened his mouth, found he had nothing to say, and shut it again, stalking off to his side of the street. The familiar listened to his grumbling a moment before shrugging and starting on the left most building.

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Sliding through a gap in the corrugated steel door, Mason fought the urge to sneeze. Like its fellows, this storage house was full of dust and smelled unquestionably of mildew and musty straw. He crept carefully in the darkness. The name on the door had proclaimed #4 Seaside Drive to be under the proud management of Waverly Corp., producer of 'Fine Goods'. He eyed the stacks of boxes doubtfully. A recent mishap at the previous building fresh in his memory. In investigating what had likely been a rat, he had invariantly elbowed a stable-looking stack, only to have it tip over with a muted crash. He paused to smell his jacket in disgust. When the dust had settled he had found himself sitting in a remarkably large pile of what felt like little pebbles and what smelled like the 'magic meat' served on Wednesdays in the cafeteria. Flicking his small flashlight on, he discovered the reason. The crates had each contained fifty-pound bags of dry cat food.

// Yup, that's me... Mason, Friend to Felines everywhere...Gah I smell like 'Special Liver Formula: Now with Calcium'... Some 'sneak thief' I'd make... // He paused, hearing a sound on the level above.

// ... Az...? You around? //

// Yes. Nothing. I can sense /nothing/... Where Is He?! // The trainee winced at the angry volume of the thought. 

// There are /people/ in this one... upstairs... I'm going to check it out. //

// What? I don't sense... Hmmm, I think you found something, I'm heading over. //

Mason briefly checked his gun as he slid up the stairs, praying each step wouldn't squeak. Somehow he made it to the top and scuttled quickly behind a stack of crates to hide from the bright light coming from the far side of the giant room. He could now easily hear the voices of several men. They were using that too-slick tone that often set his teeth on edge, trying to convince a silent opponent that what they were doing was for the 'best interest of everybody'. 

"... But you're not even /listening/ to me! You idiots!"

The guardian froze, recognizing the last voice instantly. He began a silent litany of curses as he sprinted from one shadow to the next, drawing closer to his goal.

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Valor rubbed his forehead in frustration, or he would have if his hands hadn't been tied behind his back. The loss of blood-flow making his fingers numb. He had awoke to find himself in a large poorly lit room, laying in a heap at the center of what had to be the most ornate magical ward he had ever seen. The plain chalk circle surrounding him was enhanced by additional layers of pentagrams, rings, and curling script. So much energy was consumed by the spell in fact that the chalk-lines were noticeably glowing, forming a field of white light between him and his captors. They had their own circle, seeming a twin of his own.

"Try and see it from /our/ perspective, lad." Mr. Flat-nose, as the bard had decided to label him, tried to smile understandingly. "You are, as far as we know, the only person to successfully 'awaken' the Weapon... We're very grateful to you, you've solved a most perplexing mystery. But you have to admit, /you/ as an individual, have absolutely no use for It... And we're more than willing to offer you a /very/ generous price... So why not give It to us?"

The teen shifted slightly, trying to take some of the strain off his knees. "If you wanted to conduct /business/ with me, hog-tying me was not the best first impression you could have made... and I've already told you people... it just doesn't work that way! Az does as he pleases! I don't own him! He's not something you can buy!"

"Oh, but my /dear/ boy... We think... and we have quite a lot of research to back our claim... that you /do/ own the Weapon... when you opened the seals, /you/ became It's master..."

"... he has a name you know..."

"Ah yes, what do you call it? Az? How adorable. Still you do have to see that it is /not/ a pet... /right/?"

"Oh for the love of God... Look, here's a thought... you guys let me go... and I'll do my best to make sure that he doesn't rip you into palm-sized pieces when he gets here..."

"So you /can/ control It!"

"HIM! You guys are really dumb, you know that?!"

"The barriers are designed to hold under /any/ conditions... as for the Weapon... we all know it is gender-less... that's a historical fact." The man was tapped on the shoulder by one of his partners and the group fell into a huddle, whispering frantically. Valor strained his fingers, trying to decipher the knots around his ankles, but all his reaching did was set him off balance, he tipped over with a 'thud'.

"...ow... fucking-'a'..." 

// These guys my not be the brightest bulbs in the box... but by now they can probably rule out any possibility of 'sale'... which means if they follow the pattern, they'll start trying 'alternative persuasion'... If I wasn't about to be in serious pain, it'd be funny. I can read them like a book. What I wouldn't give for a Calvary right about now... Da, dada, dada! Here they come to save the day... // Valor rested his head against the dusty planks, his own joke only serving to make him feel worse. Lonely and afraid, he could do nothing but wait for the men in suits to decide what to do with him.

// Probably a nice jolly stabbing, then drop the corpse in the river... heh, I'll probably be front page news... 'Beloved Mage Student Found Dead in Delaware' They'll have to use last year's yearbook photo... Damn it I'll be immortalized wearing Anton's bow-tie... Then again, I'll probably be relegated to the Obituaries... If they're right, Az won't be able to find me... but there's no way they can prevent him from knowing I'm dead... He's going to be /pissed/... 'Giant Lizard Destroys Nation's Capital' sort of pissed... I'll be forever remembered as the boy whose pet went berserk and ate the Leader of the Free World. I'm doomed. //

A polite cough broke through, interrupting his visualization of more and more catastrophic headlines for the Sunday paper. 

"Well Mr. Jones... my associates and are rather sorry that we could not come to terms... very sorry indeed." The pompous man straightened his tie, "But then we feel it is not entirely your fault, you /did/ come upon the Weapon by /chance/ it seems, you don't have all the experience that we do... As far as we can see therefore, there are only two options, no, hear us out!"

Val began to laugh softly, determined to enjoy the stupidity of the moment, even if it would be short lived. "Sorry... go on, tell me your /amazing/ idea..."

"Well..." The group was obviously flustered. "Well we would like to offer you a job, as the Weapon's master... If you can make it perform simple tasks, if you would join /us/ then we could still come to a /most/ amiable agreement..."

"And the alternative?"

"Well I hate to say it... but we feel that if you were ... ah shall we say 'removed' the Weapon would be forced to choose a new 'master' one of us, or someone of our choosing... Like a baby 'chick' It seems to 'impress' on the first person it sees."

"You're going to kill me... and you think that if you can get to Az before anyone else... he'll choose one of you? Funny... very funny..."

"I fail to see the humor in the situation young man! You can believe we'd much rather simply go through /you/... Won't you see reason?"

"Az isn't your 'Weapon'... and I'm /not/ his master... I don't even know why he bothers to stay with me frankly... as for Obedience?!" The bard laughed bitterly. "You think I /command/ him? Hardly, /Az/ does what /Az/ likes... I suggest things sometimes, and I scold him a lot... but I don't think that's what you had in mind... If I went 'Hey Az! Go blow up Russia!'... He'd probably just think I'm daft and get bored and go away..."

"We could help you /train/ him..."

"That would be a spectacularly /bad/ idea..."

"You are obstinate then?"

Valor felt strangely calm, "Yeah, sorry man. If you won't listen, you'll just have to find out the /hard/ way..."

"I see... then there's only one thing we can do... Ge-"

"HEY! Hand over the Bard, and No one gets Hurt!"

// ... Impossible... //

"Mason...?" He craned his head, following the older men's startled gaze to see a new form stalking out of the darkness. The naked blade gleamed wickedly in the half light.

// Only he could say that and have it not sound stupid. //

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Mason moved without thinking, his gun aimed at the flock of men in suits on the far side of the room. In the chalk pattern to his left his friend was vainly trying to upright himself again but wasn't having much luck. The ropes tying the boy were obviously too tight. He couldn't explain the unreasoning anger that provoked him to move, something about the whole situation striking him as sick and unfunny. He had listened in the shadows, not certain if he had understood any of what was going on, but he was beginning to. What was about to happen was more then clear, he was going to get his friend back, and that was all. 

// But where'd Az go...? I have no idea what I'm doing... what the hell is this crap on the floor? It looks like some sort of protection circle... but is it to keep me /out/? or to keep Val /in/? I don't want to fry myself trying... //

"Val, what's with the floor, I can't read this shit!"

"Even /I/ can't read all this shit... get me out of here! /My/ circle is just a big shield, you should be able to step on it..."

The trainee moved sideways, not taking his eyes off the silent men, and gingerly set the toe of his boot on the edge of the pattern. He pulled back quickly when it began to smoke. "Ow, son of a..."

"...ooops, guessed wrong. Sorry."

"Thanks, Val..."

"Young man, I don't know what you're trying to do, but it won't work..."

Mason closed the distance to the second circle, staring down the older men with ease. "Let him out."

"Or you'll what? We can still attack /you/, but I doubt you'll have an easy time stopping us! Our barrier is impenetrable" The trainee shrugged and opened fire, deciding to test their claim, the bullets flickered off an invisible wall, ricocheting wildly about the room. Behind him he heard the bard yelp in alarm as one of the projectile hit the other barrier in the room. 

"Jesus Mason! That's not going to work! Try and destroy the chalk! That's what's holding the barriers!"

"Chalk...? Right..." He shot another bullet, causing the men to flinch again while he tried to come up with a plan.

// Idiot... I should've thought of that... but I can't touch the... // Mason looked up, inspiration dawning. // Sprinklers...? Water! Perfect. // He was too slow, the protected-men catching on before he could fire at the water pipes. One of the previously silent men in the back of the had begun chanting, causing the hair on the back of his neck to go up. He dodged the first ball of fire by inches, the heat scorching his face as he frantically moved. The second forced him to dive again, rolling out of the way. // This is for /real/... they're trying to kill you! /Do/ something?! // His mind was a frightening blank, the cold energy he half expected to surface was dormant. // /Help/ Me! // The energy stirred, seeming almost sullen to be summoned. He strained, hoping the silent voice of his subconscious would return again and tell him what to do. He had doubted last summer, he had heard the voice behind the church, but disbelieved it, blaming it on his concussion. The past year had proved him wrong, his silent advisor returning on several occasions, but only when he was in serious trouble. He was surprised that it had not come to him now. Mason ducked another blast and tried for the sprinklers again, his shot going wide.

// Come on! I can't do this on my own! I'm still new at this! //

/ ... /

// I /know/ you're there... What do I do?! //

/ You... / Irritation faded to thoughtful amusement. / You seem to have everything well in hand. /

// In hand?! I'm getting /baked/ here! //

/ You're doing fine, remember, while /you're/ distracting them, your partner is getting in position... /

// Who?! //

/ The demon. Az. /

// You knew he was a demon?! //

/ Duck. / The trainee obeyed the silent command, his attention divided between the mages and his dry-voiced sub-conscious. / Of course I knew. It was rather obvious... but he's strong, I've never seen his like... /

// Great... So where is he... //

The floorboards trembled slightly, the vibration only noticeable because he was briefly standing still. He prepared to lunge again, but realized he was no longer being shot at. The business men were frozen, white with terror, staring past him and at the top of the stairs. Even Mason felt impressed, where his entrance had been loud, the familiar seemed to slink across the floor, moving silently and exuding an aura of pure menace. Az seemed to bring the shadows with him as he stepped into the light, the slim human body only a convenient shell for /something else/. He picked himself up and moved out of the way, standing behind Val's protective barriers as the demon stalked closer. The bard had started to babble.

"Az?! Nononono! Don't kill! You mustn't kill! /please/... Az! Calm down! I /know/ you're angry... but I'm /fine/, we're all fine... they didn't hurt me! It's OK!"

He fell silent as his familiar crouched next to him, studying the myriad lines. The pale face was cold, completely unemotional. "Be patient a moment, this will be over soon."

"/Az/?!" Valor struggled to get a hand free. "Az, Please!!"

He has already turned away, facing the bard's captors. "You are nothing without your barriers. Children hiding from the truth... You want your 'weapon'? I'll demonstrate." Two elegant fingers flickered downwards, driving into the floor. The touch sent a visible shockwave through the wood, causing it to ripple violently then explode, dissolving into timber and dust. 

/ Impressive. /

// Screw you. //

Mason was on his feet in an instant, sprinting over the shattered floor to catch the bard as he fell. Both magical circles were erased, broken apart as the floor crumbled. The trainee was ready for a painful landing, curling his body protectively around his friend in the hopes of absorbing most of the impact. It never came. He cracked a leery eye open, trying to get his bearings, it took a few tries, the surrounding rubble making it difficult to tell what was what in the darkness. He was hovering roughly a foot above the floor, the terrified bard still trembling in his arms. Above them, several unpleasant sounding screams echoed then died. Mason felt himself slowly lowered to the floor, landing with a bump. Wasting no time, he hastily stripped Valor of the various ropes and hauled the teen to his feet, all but dragging him from the now listing building. The bard collapsed on the street, refusing to run further.

"You ok, Val? Jeez you're scratched up pretty good... they didn't have to tie you so tight...."

"Oh Az... what have you done..." The trainee glanced back at the warehouse to calmly note flames were now cheerfully consuming the building. The blaze burned unnaturally fast, consuming not just wood, but the steel housing with no effort. Soon, all that remained was a scorched and empty lot. He was surprised to see that Valor was crying.

"They were going to kill you, you know."

"...I know..."

"... and you're ok with this?!"

"No, but that doesn't mean they had to die... I /tried/ to warn them... I tried to stop him... he is just so bloody /unreasonable/ sometimes!"

"He wants to protect you."

Val angrily wiped his face on a dirty sleeve. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me... I'm not worth it. Besides..." He watched a dark shape detach from the smoke and walk towards them. "This won't solve /anything/... they'll be back... if only for revenge." He fell silent, waiting for the changeling to arrive.

Dark hair now loose and windswept, Az crouched easily in front of the bard. A hesitant hand reaching up to capture a stray tear. He tasted it thoughtfully as Val shied away. For a moment the elegant face looked worried, watching his master silently collect himself. In the end he said nothing, gathering the protesting form in his arms and rising with a fluid grace. 

"Bad, Az! Put me down! Haven't you caused enough trouble?!" Mason blinked as pitch black eyes met his under the street lamp.

"Home?"

The trainee nodded emphatically. "Home. Before the cops get here or the /Hunters/..." He followed the dark form into the alley, tossing one more look over his shoulder at the smoldering bare-spot. "Jesus screamed, and he ran." Without a sound the three teens dissolved into the darkness, leaving the street empty and silent.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Penny for your thoughts..."

"Huh...?" Mason looked up from the mass of textbooks and notes to look at his friend. The bard was perched on his bed, taking a break from another round battling with the blank sheets of composition paper. Gray eyes twinkled in tired amusement.

"You've been staring at the same page in that book for over fifteen minutes, sir... Somehow I /doubt/ it is that interesting."

"oh...." He looked down, really /seeing/ what was in front of him for the first time in minutes. The book /was/ terribly dull, a dry collection of facts and dates, describing the evolution of weaponry through the ages, but that wasn't what had sent him daydreaming. The top illustration on the page caught his eye again, causing him to pause. The photo was old and grainy, a poor black and white representation of what ought to have been a marvel, the pinnacle of design and craftsmanship. He read the caption again. "Considered one of the finest examples of its time period, the "Générateur de Veuve", more commonly known as 'the Widowmaker' was found by a telephone survey team when they were laying wire for a new addition to the Basilica in Rome, a one-handed weapon cast in Damascus, it is unrivaled in strength or beauty. It is also one of only three blades in existence that can be uncontestedly labeled a 'Riot Blade' as it bears a complete and undamaged maker's mark. Dated as being forged sometime between 1200 and 1300 AD, it is the oldest known example of this family's work. It resides currently in a private collection in France. Photograph courtesy of the LeRue Foundation. c 1937."

"You've been mooning all this time over a sword?!" Valor slouched against the wall and began to laugh, kicking a book of Music Theory off the edge of the bed with a spiteful nudge.

The trainee tore his eyes away from the image with a shrug, grinning at himself. "I dunno... it sounds strange... but I think I've seen it before... I mean, the picture is really crappy, but I recognize the thing. It's kind of weird."

"Don't ask me... as far as I can tell, all swords look pretty much the same"

"Oh yeah? Well to me all cellos sound the same..." He received a pillow attack for his efforts and retaliated, all thoughts of studying for the winter exams forgotten. Mason had almost finished subduing his wily opponent when he was interrupted by a polite, yet firm, tap on his shoulder.

"Kindly do not smother my mage..." Despite the traditionally dry monotone, the trainee could swear he heard a trace of humor. He immediately surrendered his pillow, grinning sheepishly.

"I don't suppose it'd help to say /he/ started it..."

Az blinked and gave the bard a long look. "What are you /doing/..."

"Having fun, you ought to try it sometime." The black-haired boy was completely unrepentant and snatched his pillow back, belting his familiar across the chest with it. Sighing with defeat, the demon claimed the pillow before stalking to his customary seat on the window ledge. Val frowned in thought. "You weren't walking around the /halls/ like that... were you? I could get in a lot of trouble if they catch you and figure out that you're not a student..."

"I was discrete... I needed to complete one or two tasks that were better done with 'hands', that's all..."

The bard raised an eyebrow. "Tasks...?"

Calmly reaching into a pocket, Az withdrew a familiar looking cream-colored envelope, embossed with the school logo. "Invitation. I decided to get an official one. Now you need not be concerned that they'll find their count amiss."

"Wait, you broke into the Dean's office and /stole/ one?!" Mason took one look at the pole-axed expression and began to laugh helplessly, his own worries thoroughly forgotten. The demon simply shrugged, not seeing anything wrong with his actions.

"I also added my name to the invitation list. They'll think that I was just there all along..."

"Way to go, Az." 

He shrugged off the trainee's complement. "You said they wouldn't let me in as a dog, and I refuse to let you go alone." The slim boy shot Mason an inscrutable look, "Especially if /this one/ is going to be otherwise occupied..." The dark boy shrugged silently agreeing to the statement. "So that left me either 'manufacturing' an invitation, or procuring one of my own... I fail to see the problem."

"They're going to /notice/ that they've never seen you before!"

"No, I doubt it, and if they do, they won't remember."

"...Az...."

"Shouldn't you be studying...?"

"Yeah Val... How much of that Opus have you /written/ yet? A page...? Less?"

"Mason, if you think you can do better, I should dearly like to see you try."

Grinning again, the trainee deliberately turned the page, blocking out the strange thoughts, and the sword, in favor of passing his exams and surviving the end-of-semester social life. Just as he was settling down, a new thought occurred to him, a reminder he'd almost failed to deliver. "Hey Val..."

"Hey what... I'm busy here..." The bard was attacking his sheet music with renewed vigor.

"Did Anton tell you that you're invited to his 'Special Mid-Winter Fishing Trip' ?"

The musician made a face. "Fishing?! You have to be joking."

"Well he had to call it something... and there /is/ a lake where we're going..."

"Who is this 'we'...?" Val was suddenly suspicious.

"Ummm, Anton and Nelson, Mary and Sophia, Tav and Freid, Connie and Jo, and Steven and me... It ought to be cool..."

Suspicions confirmed, the bard couldn't help but grin. "OH.... /FISHING/... riiiiight... I cannot help but notice that I'm the only 'single' person going /on/ this little outing... what am I, the chaperone?"

"Pffft. Nah, And don't look at /me/. Anton thought of inviting you all on his own, I just happen to agree. You should come, wallow in luxury for a week. It beats the hell out of staying here all alone while I'm gone..."

"I wouldn't be alone, there are plenty of kids who stay here over Christmas... Speaking of which, you /are/ going home... right?" He gave his sprawled friend a worried look.

"Yeah yeah, for a week or so, I'll be coming right back /here/ after the trip though, there's some stuff I want to get done..."

"You're insane."

"So you've said. Anyway, I thought, if Az came along as he is now..." He gave the silently listening teen a nod. "Then it would still be an even number of people... the house is supposed to be enormous..."

"And no one there for the winter holidays save a handful of reprobate teenagers... oh /this/ will be /nuts/. Count me in, I'll bring the camera so I can blackmail you all later."

"You don't own a camera."

"Believe me, I'll find one."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"I... don't remember seeing you around, you new here...?"

"No, but I'm in the guardian program... I don't go into mage classes often."

"Ah, that explains it. Now that you mention it, you do look the part... and I suppose you're guarding our 'precious' Val this evening? Good Good, you kids enjoy yourselves." The elaborately-robed 'Simple Charms' professor was still smiling blankly as he wandered away. It wasn't until he was lost in the swirl of students that the bard let out the breath that he was holding.

"I don't believe he bought that."

"I do, do you still want some punch?"

"I wish I could have a beer."

"If we wait ten minutes, I believe Nelson is about to add half a bottle of rum to the mix."

Val stared at the tuxedo-ed boy at his side. "/What/?! How could you /possibly/ know that..."

An elegant eyebrow lifted, giving the sharp features a quizzical look. "Simple observation. I saw him smuggle the bottle in... and now I am watching him casually slip over to the tureen while Anton distracts the two staff members." The bard craned his neck to spot the sneaky mage student in action. Sure enough, just as the usually soft spoken Moroccan's wailing reached fevered pitch, the scarlet clad mage liberally dumped the contents of the bottle before kicking it under the tablecloth. The two professors were still placating Anton, who was insisting that he'd /die/ if his grades were anything less than perfect, as Nelson gave the brew a quick stir. They were a devilish pair.

"Don't be disgruntled, curly-top. Come and have some 'punch'..." The two mages grabbed their glasses and made a hasty get away into the crowd. Suddenly the refreshment table became a lot more popular. Valor laughed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Out on the enclosed balcony, and for the moment free from prying eyes, Steven was already making the most of his evening. The semester had been one long tedious frustrating /wait/ for him, and now that it was over he was all but counting the days until his plan was complete. In less than two weeks he would have his guardian /alone/, with no distractions, and no excuses. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the idea whenever he thought about it. They all needed an 'outing', Nelson, their ringleader and self-proclaimed 'pervert for life' had taken to the idea like a drunkard to a keg of whiskey, enlisting his latest conquest's help in less than a day.

// I believe the argument went something along the lines of 'but no one else's family will be 'out of town'... followed quickly by an 'I'll Love you forever'... Heh, Ant may play it 'innocent' but he's no fool... then again, he /has/ succeeded where so far all others have failed... how long has it been... three months? And they're still together? Amazing, and here I thought Nel was strictly a 'love'em and leave'em'... unless they haven't... Oh my... Maybe /I'm/ not the only one in need of some serious privacy... //

He pulled his thoughts away from the suddenly amusing idea, preferring to take advantage of the shady nook. Mason was seemingly oblivious of the opportunity, watching the faint stars, deep in thought. It was easy enough to grab his attention, slipping under an arm to wedge himself between the trainee and the railing in a loose embrace. The glass window was frosty as he leaned back into it, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Hey, you going to stare at those all night? I thought we could come out here to get some peace and quiet... you know... /talk/... And here all you do is stare at stars..."

The still-tanned boy flinched guiltily. "Sorry... something about winter nights... I just like them, that's all... I wish I was outside."

"Do you ski?"

"Nope, never had a chance to learn... I bet it would be nice though."

"It is, well in Europe anyway. You go up into the mountains, and stay at a cozy little old fashioned inn... and then there's a fabulous view from every window... and you spend all day in the snow, and all night lounging in front of the fire... staying warm..." Steven boldly slipped his hands under the black jacket, pulling himself closer to demonstrate the /other/ things that could be done in front of the fire. His kisses were easily returned, but without any attempts to go further. He huffed in irritation. "/Relax/... no one is coming..."

The trainee simply smiled and kissed him again, short but unbearably sweet. "Be patient, whelp. We'll soon have all the time in the world."

"/Whelp/?! Are you calling me a puppy? I should snub you for the rest of the night for that..."

Shaking his head in amusement, Mason sighed. "Sorry... I won't do it again, and... Hey, what do you think you're /doing/... hmmmm?" He calmly detached the exploring hands, capturing them with his own and pinning them to the banister. The mage squirmed a little but found himself stuck.

"Spoilsport."

"Patience."

"... is not one of my better virtues..."

The trainee frowned for a moment, confused. "I thought you once boasted you were 'patience incarnate'..."

"Not /me/..." The blonde smirked. "You're going senile already! One too many hits to the head..." Mason smiled at the joke, but his eyes were still distant. "It was probably Val... come, give me another kiss before we rejoin the madhouse. I'm leaving hideously early tomorrow morning to spend time with my folks so this'll have to tide me over till I see you for New Years..."

"Always so demanding..." The guardian stooped slightly to grant the request. 

Wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck Steven was in momentary heaven as he let himself be all but swept off his feet. The kiss was long and fervent, proving that for all his modesty and old fashioned values, even the trainee was looking forward to their vacation. He resisted the urge to gloat, concentrating on getting his breathing settled. It wouldn't do to go back into the room blushing like an idiot. Absently, he reached to straighten Mason's tie.

"Right then, let's go."

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// It wasn't Val that said that... it was you... or wait, maybe it was only a dream... why is it that I can remember these things but you can't... Did you forget me? Did any of those things ever happen at all? I don't know anymore... // 

The dark boy kept his thoughts carefully to himself as he was pulled back into the crowded room, letting the noise and excitement distract him. Ahead of him Steven was cheerfully plowing through the crowd towards a familiar group of heads. Moimoi's hair, an even more outrageous construction than usual stood towering in glory, adding to her already impressive height. The braided mass bobbed unnervingly every time she gestured. Her cheeks were a rosy pink.

"And /then/ I said... 'you wanna /know/ what's up my skirt?! I'll show you!' and I whipped out my knife..." She tottered a little in trying to demonstrate, fumbling with the green taffeta skirt. Anton's eyes grew enormous as he was flashed more leg then he'd likely seen his whole life. Molly and several other girls were trying to subdue the lively, and obviously intoxicated guardian into a less 'risky' conversation. They were failing.

"Get /off/ I know what I'm... what was I talking about again?" Nelson laughingly provided the gentler mage with a handkerchief to staunch his sudden bloody nose.

"You've got /no/ tolerance, you know... none at all..."

"Where I come from, women do /not/ go around flashing their underwear at dinner parties..."

"Sounds boring, remind me not to visit."

"Nelson!"

"...What...."

Mason smirked in amusement, and looked around to see his closest friend cornered by the Student Liaison to the Guardian School. Az was talking calmly with the shaggy man while the bard stared in wonder. He could just barely make out the snippet of conversation.

"No, you wouldn't have seen me around, I'm studying to be a magical historian, I'm writing a thesis about potential evidence of mages in Dinosaur cultures."

"Ah... good for you then... Always nice to see a student with motivation..." Completely baffled, the instructor wandered off, a glazed look on his face.

Val gingerly responded to Mason's wave, and snagged another glass of punch along the way, downing it in one long swallow. The demon watched the wobble in his walk with slight concern.

"I think you've had enough."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough. Hey Maisie... crazy party, hmmm?"

"Having fun?"

"I... I think I'm drunk..."

"I noticed."

"Not drunk enough, though..." The bard turned in terror as his companion was stopped by yet another adult circulating around the room.

The woman frowned slightly, as if trying to remember him. "Aren't you..."

Az smiled charmingly, "I'm the Groundskeeper for the Boy's School. Remarkably good weather we're having, isn't it?"

The woman blinked, and her eyes glazed. "Oh yes, and I have to complement you, the paths have been really well shoveled this year... last year I nearly broke my neck..."

"Ice is a worry, yes. If you'll excuse me?"

"Oh, of course." She cheerfully waved goodbye and was pulled back into the crowd.

Valor swallowed nervously. "No, definitely not drunk enough... I still know what's going on..."

"I don't know... this is rather amusing." Az smiled, it was a rather disturbing expression for the demon.

"How long has he been doing this?"

"All night..." The bard looked decidedly strained.

"Cool." Mason's bland appraisal of the situation earned him a hard look. "What..? it's apparently /working/... relax Bard. No blood no foul."

"Easy for you to say..."

"I'm with the caterers, do try a canapé, won't you? I'm especially proud of them." They both stared in disbelief as the demon smoothly derailed another staff member.

Val sighed in defeat. "I'm doomed."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Mason hadn't been entirely sure what to expect when it came time to leave home. He had blindly assured his mother that he'd call once he 'arrived', and joked with his father about the perils of ice fishing, but eventually it was time to wait for his ride, and shouldering his bag, he wandered out onto the front porch. Luckily, Kathy was away visiting friends, it saved him the worry of having to hide his anticipation from her. There were /some/ things he wasn't quite ready to have her pry into, /especially/ as far as relationships were concerned. He didn't have to stand too long in the chill morning air, a long black car pulled up to the house at 10:30 precisely. Mason stared in disbelief as the driver politely stored his bags and ushered him into the warm interior, informing him that he was the first pick-up and that he might as well get comfortable. The three hour drive to school was completed in relative silence. 

"Holy shit! I can't believe Anton got us a limo!" He was jarred awake by multiple shrieks of joy, a pair of girls in long scarves piling into the car in a flurry of snow and laughter. With their identical wool hats, Mason was forced to stare for a moment before he could tell them apart. Connie's blonde curls, sneaking out from under the multiple layers, gave her away. Jo promptly pulled her partner further in, settling them across from him. They were followed more quietly by a well insulated guitar case and two slim forms in matching black overcoats. Valor blinked owlishly in the dim light.

"Woah, is that a mini-bar?"

"Hello, Mason." Az settled himself primly next to the bard, both of them easily settling on the unofficial 'boy's side' of the car. Jo wasted no time in investigating the possibility of alcohol and as the car pulled away from the curb, a bottle and a corkscrew were rapidly produced. 

"Where are we going anyway...?"

"Somewhere in New York I think... I dunno, Upstate..." Val fumbled with his gloves briefly before his familiar took over, removing the stiff cloth with a practiced grace. The musician smiled sheepishly and shook his fingers to work the warmth back into them. "Did you have a long wait?"

Mason blinked, realizing that he was being addressed. The girls had already fell to chatting amongst themselves. One of only two full bonded mage-guardian pairs that he knew, he considered them terribly lucky. "Um... I fell asleep actually..."

"That's fine... little /else/ to do on a long car trip. Have a good dream?"

The trainee frowned thoughtfully. "I... dreamt of the mountains... of snow..."

"Not surprising, given the weather... brrrrr it's bloody cold out there!" The bard laughed off the answer and stripped off his coat, adding it to the large pile in the corner. Sensing Mason's need for quiet he sighed softly and leaned against his familiar's shoulder, not minding at all when he was wrapped in a loose embrace.

"Hey, Val. You never introduced us to your 'friend'! And here we've been /so/ patient and polite..." Jo's smile was teasing, but the female guardian was definitely curious.

The demon raised an eyebrow as his bard winced. "My name is Azan, we met over the summer when he worked in Washington."

"Wow! You're /cute/! If all guys were so good looking..."

"... you'd /still/ be with me. /Right/?!" Jo laughed nervously as her mage fixed her with the mother of all death-glares. 

"Of course!" Az simply snorted in amusement, and holding the dozing form in his arms a little tighter, closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The kitchen was quiet save for the sound of running water as Mason meditatively washed an enormous stack of pots and dishes. Volunteering for the simple chore had seemed preferable to sitting uncomfortably in the parlor and he had declined Valor's offers to help. The bard was obviously exhausted. He didn't mind the labor, his hands going through the motions deftly while he stared out the window. The flakes fell in fat soft clumps coating the trees and railings in fluffy whiteness. Their slow fall was mesmerizing, each point of white blending with the others in the late evening twilight. For some reason he couldn't explain it made him a little sad, and he was glad for the excuse to be away from the over-exuberant group.

// Maybe I should go fishing after all... I don't seem to be fit company for anyone tonight. // He shook his head, trying to free himself from the odd feeling on inertia he was suffering from. // No, this is silly, what have I to feel bad about, I'm here with /him/... I should be happy... Shouldn't I? I'm just out of it because I spent seven hours in a car... that's all... // Beside him a silent hand scooped up a towel from the counter, startling him badly.

"Jeez Az! Make a little /noise/ will you?!" He fumbled and caught the soapy mug, setting it down carefully.

"You usually notice me... Unusual for a human perhaps, but still... I did not intend to interrupt your train of thought."

The trainee grinned at the odd apology, "Nah, I wasn't thinking... not really. What's up?"

"I thought I'd see if you needed help."

"You mean you want to get away from the party-people... Where's Val?"

"Sleeping on the couch."

"He's really wiped isn't he."

"'Wiped'?" The featureless eyes blinked curiously.

"You know... tired?"

"Ah, yes. He is tired."

Mason grinned. "Put him to bed?"

"Do you think I should?" The demon casually began to pull dishes out of the rack, wiping them dry with quick sweeps of the cloth. The dark teen watched his friend for a moment, struck by the oddity of the situation. 

"Who taught you how to dry dishes?"

"Valor."

"And you don't mind?"

He only looked confused. "I don't understand."

Rinsing his hands clean of soap, Mason gestured at the neat stack of dry dishes. "This, all of this. I keep thinking about what those jokers in the warehouse said last summer... You're like this 'all powerful being of mass destruction'... So why this, why dishes?"

"'Why Valor?', you mean."

"Yeah." Uncertain if he had asked a too personal question, and then uncertain if there even /was/ such a thing with Az, he turned back to his dishes. They cleaned quietly for a time.

"I guess... I guess it's because I like him." Az's face was strangely thoughtful, the rather 'human' emotion looked odd on the aristocratic features. There was a hesitant silence before he continued. "I... There's not much challenge, is there... in killing things. I mean I can do it, it's what I'm built for... but... /this/... this is hard. This is new. Sometimes I hate it, there are too many rules, too many little things that don't seem important but they are... and I keep making /mistakes/. I hate that."

"So you do it because it's a challenge?"

"Partly." The demon smiled. "Mostly, I just like to see him smile."

The trainee chuckled at the creature's tender expression. "You really love him don't you."

Az blinked again, pondering the statement. "I don't know what 'love' /is/."

Not knowing how to respond, Mason fell silent. They finished the rest of the chore quietly, the demon collecting his bard from the couch and carrying him upstairs without a word.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"You look so serious..." Steven set down his wineglass on the dresser, and lit the candles in the room with a mumbled word. The warm glow drove some of the cool darkness from the room, but the cause for his comment was still standing motionless at the window. The dark eyes were watching the never-ending fall of snow. Curious, the mage joined him. "It's very pretty... like a snow-globe, hmmm?" He caught one of the trainee's hands, forcing the other teen to pay attention as he drew it around his waist. The taller boy smiled, looking at him at last, and sighed, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"Yes, very pretty. But not as nice as you."

The blonde felt the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks, the wine, combined with his would-be-lover's earnest expression serving to make him feel a very pleasant glow. He snuggled closer and was gratified that the strong arms wrapped tighter around him, gently stroking his back. They stood for a moment, but nothing followed, and Steven felt the urge to fill the silence, to try and regain command of the situation. He had an agenda to keep, and he would not be denied. "You want to take a shower or something? Being in the car so long..." he shuddered in sympathy. "I much prefer to fly..." 

Mason laughed softly, placing a kiss on top of the soft hair. "Yes, and you're rich enough to be /able/ to fly..."

The mage refused to be baited, pulling his companion towards the bathroom. "Yes, but it hardly made sense to fly from New York City... My uncle's chauffeur brought me up. Of course... speaking of /driving/... Who is this 'Azan' person?! Isn't he the guy we saw in the park once? How come Val never told us that he was seeing someone... I mean jeez, talk about a secret affair..."

"I knew." The dark boy watched Steven stare in disbelief, suppressing a laugh. "What... I met him before... He's ok, pretty quiet though."

"Oh..."

"Maybe I /will/ take that shower..." He placed another ghosting kiss on the blonde's forehead before claiming a robe and retreating to the bathroom. The mage stared at the shut door and eventually shrugged, refusing to be daunted. Taking a minute to gather his thoughts, he listened to the quiet house, certain that the other couples had also retired for the night. He couldn't explain his feeling of nervousness.

// What's the big deal... We're /here/, he's /mine/... Val's most certainly 'busy' right now so there won't be any /more/ distractions from /that/ corner... Still... He looks tired. Maybe I should let him sleep...? // He refused to consider the alternative seriously. // No way... I've waited /way/ too long... No, I bet that Nelson is even /now/... // Motivated once again he made his preparations and climbed into bed. // He wants this... and I /definitely/ want this... the rest will work itself out. // The mage waited anxiously for the sound of the water being shut off. 

Steven had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot when the tall boy finally emerged from the bathroom. Mason usually looked tempting in a t-shirt, but in only a bathrobe, he was irresistible. The damp hair was an unruly mass of spikes, the brown looking almost black in the flickering light. His chestnut eyes were tired, but there was a sudden air of mystery to them. The mage watched breathlessly as he walked over to the bed, and then hesitated, unsure what to do. 

// Or rather he knows what to do... and is uncertain if he /should/... Damn but I should demand he peel that robe off right now and let me stare at him. But there will be time for that later... I keep forgetting he's new at this... first things first... bed. // He mustered what he hoped was a normal smile.

"Sit down, I won't bite... well, not right away, anyway..."

His gentle tease seemed to break the ice, the trainee relaxing slightly and settling on the edge of the bed. Steven gave him an appreciative glance before crawling over and kissing him, using lips and hands to pull him further onto the mattress. Mason snorted in amusement as he noticed the mage's striped pajama-bottoms, but made no verbal comment. His mouth was already busy responding to the continuous barrage of kisses. He allowed the mage to keep the upper hand, submitting to the eager touches, until at last he couldn't hold back, pushing the slim boy gently back into the blankets, easily falling into an embrace of arms and legs. Taking control, he deepened his kiss, sending his tongue delving into the welcoming warmth of his lover's mouth. The blonde sighed in delight, fumbling blindly with the robe's belt as he felt the guardian pull the blankets over them.

// Not too tired by half! Oh this will do... this will do just /fine/... Infinitely better than any rushed 'feel' in the storeroom or at a party... Will you let me touch you /now/ Mason? Will you cry out for me? You say you love me... show me. // 

At first he sought to guide, to show the less experienced teen what to do. But he soon found such concerns completely unjustified, the muscled boy seeming to know /exactly/ how to touch him to make his world catch fire. He gave up the struggle to understand where the guardian had learned his skill, using the last of his wits to smother the majority of the candles in the room. It took two tries to get the words out sensibly as the darker boy tasted the skin under his ear.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The blonde's kisses were intoxicating. Lost somewhere between dream and reality, Mason could do nothing but hold him close and pray that he would do everything right. The skin beneath his fingers was so warm, smooth, tantalizing. It was easy to slide his hands along the narrow waist, catching the loose band of the pants and drawing them down with the caress. The body beneath his arched with a moan, assisting him in removing the unnecessary cloth barrier. Eager hands stripped him of the robe, hastily pushing it off his shoulders and out of the way. He shivered as the slim fingers returned to the skin on his back, appreciatively tracing the contours of his shoulders and arms. The blonde's voice was a hoarse whisper in his ear.

"God I want you... touch me... /please/..." 

He moaned his assent, mouth tasting the hollows of his neck before sliding to a shoulder and down his chest. Mason wanted, /needed/ to prove himself. Needed to show the mage how long he had dreamt of him, desired him. A pair of hands tangled in his hair with a sigh as he found the first stiff peak of flesh. Running his tongue thoughtfully across the nipple he almost laughed as the blonde squirmed beneath him, pressing him closer to the panting chest. Whimsically he switch sides, tasting the other as he delicately ran a finger over its recently abandoned twin. The mage tasted of lavender and rose-hips, and some other unidentifiable bath oil. For some reason the floral scent was distracting, not unpleasant but simply unexpected. 

// I wonder, I don't remember him having a scent in my dream... or he did... but it was cleaner... more masculine maybe? // 

He dismissed the thought, preferring to concentrate on the pleasure at hand. // Doesn't matter, small things, people change, I've changed, he must have too... // 

It was terribly tempting to stay as he was, to endlessly taste and explore the regions already uncovered, but Steven mewled impatiently, his hands demandingly coaxing him downwards. The blonde had now completely surrendered, willingly allowing him to take the lead, so long as he didn't dawdle. Shaking back the covers he slid lower taking in the sight of the faintly lit skin beneath him, his own arousal was aching, a steady beat in his groin and at the base of his brain. Pulsing in time with his heart, the energy ghosted through him, similar to the cold fire that he could summon in battle but fainter, and more primal. He kissed a trail down the flat stomach, hands exploring here-to-fore unknown regions on the mage's legs, caressing up the calf and under the knee. He remembered in dreams how his lover had sighed, his toes curling in delight. 

There was a moment of dizziness, but it passed in a breath, barely breaking his stride. 

The sheets slid back further, now silk instead of cotton. He paused to shake his head, sweeping a hand through his hair to push the 'tails' out of the way. Under him, the blonde grumbled impatiently he was uncertain if the murmur was a prayer or a curse. There was no need to rush, he wanted to make this last all night. 

"... Ashley.... please... don't tease..."

He grinned, allowing his stroking hands to slide slowly over the soft skin of the inner thigh, skirting but never touching the center of the mage's desire. Finally when he couldn't watch his lover wait anymore he leaned down placing a gentle kiss at the tip of the straining erection. Fingers, feather light, trailed over the heated flesh as he watched his lover shudder, biting his hand to hold back a cry. Ashley smiled, the blonde had always been a proud one. It was a simple thing really, to taste him again, what had once been so foreign seeming so natural. He listened carefully as he worked, taking the stiff flesh into his mouth to suck it briefly and let it go. The sobbing moans were slowly loosing their musical edge, becoming sharper as the mage grew close to his limit. The knight toyed briefly with the idea of prolonging the torture, making his wily lover beg for his release, but decided tonight was not the time. He wanted the cultist too badly. Sweeping his hair out of the way again, he paused in his ministrations to slide upwards, claiming another sweet kiss. The blonde was almost frantic, the velvet mouth pressing hard against his, straining for more. Their bodies rocked together, sliding and grinding in blissful friction. Ashley found his control slipping, a thin hand had slipped between them catching a hold of him in a place that could be neither ignored or denied. He groaned loudly into the kiss pressing the prophet deeper into the satin pillows. The arm around his neck tightened, each touch of lips against his a whimpered plea. Blindly he fumbled with the bedside table, hand seeking the oil he knew to be in reach. It was almost too much to pull the mage up off the bed a little, to slip a hand underneath to apply the slippery substance. Fingers explored the hidden recesses, one arm holding the overly eager blonde steady as the other prepared them both for what was to come.

"Be patient, love... God you're beautiful. You're always so beautiful..." His voice sounded desperate, even to /him/, barely a growl of a whisper. The mage laughed breathlessly, wriggling himself into a better position and pulling Ashley down on top of him. It was so simple, so perfect, an act of affirmation that they had shared a hundred times before. He slowly lifted the legs, guiding them around his hips, his kiss a warning. There was a moment of breathless anticipation, their eyes met, desire shining, then they moved, sliding together with a wordless cry. He panted into the fine hair, feeling the cultist moan into his neck, as he worked himself in further, the gripping heat that wrapped his shaft threatening to drive him mad. His world narrowed to the feeling of the legs clenching his waist, the manicured nails digging into his back, and the piercing pleasure between his legs as he slowly set the pace. Each thrust was heaven, his body happily driving them both to well remembered levels of passion, the tension inside him growing steadily. Shifting his hold on the gasping mage, he freed a hand, sending it down the sweat-slick chest, reaching between them to tantalize his lover further. The need was becoming unbearable but he forced himself to wait, quickly stroking the fevered flesh to its limit. The man froze for a moment, every muscle trembling uncontrollably as he wailed, a warm wetness flooding up between them to splash against his stomach. It was enough, it was only the beginning. Unable to wait any longer Ashley pressed his face into the still shaking neck, his body surging desperately for release. It came on a moment of perfect abandon, the pressure inside snapping loose and unraveling in a wave of perfection, transcendence. He heard himself cry out, the words seeming to belong to someone else.

"Oh yes, oh... /Sydney/!" Not high poetry perhaps but perfectly suited to the moment, and his feeling of absolute bliss. It was with a contented sigh that he carefully rolled to the side, unwilling to relinquish his lover, yet unable to support himself. The blonde murmured something, but the meaning was lost as his mind pleasantly hazed over in the aftermath of their tryst. They lay together a quiet moment before the mage pulled away slightly, sliding himself free of the knight to stare down at him, a faint smirk visible on the kiss-bruised lips. 

Ashley closed his eyes, feeling the kiss that was placed on his forehead with every fiber of his body. Looking into his eyes, Sydney smiled for real. His mouth opened, lips forming words, but to the knight's dismay, he couldn't make them out, their meaning blurring together into a rich loving murmur, the syllables indistinguishable. He frowned, and tried to fight the rising feeling of dizziness that threatened to distract him once more.

Around him the room shivered, the colors bleeding like wet water color.

"Mason...?"

Steven's voice was not the sweet lulling whisper that he remembered. It was nothing like it in fact, more akin to a worried question, or even a suspicion interrogation. The trainee blinked muzzily, feeling as though he had missed something rather important. Trying to pull his thoughts together, he missed the first question, only understanding the angry inquiry the second time around.

"...What...?"

"I said... '/Who/ the Hell is /Sydney/?'!!" 

"...Sydney...?"

Mason blinked again, the full knowledge of what he had just done flowing into him, but it didn't stop there. It was as if all the walls in his mind had been torn down, the barriers between dream and reality shattered with the moment the name echoed in his mouth for a second time. For the first time in his life, he /remembered/, and his world came crashing down. Images flooded over him, almost too fast to identify. 

// Sydney. //

He was standing in a darkened Basilica, candles placed in an ancient design on the floor, he looked to his right and paused in shock, a limp form bleeding itself out on the marble. He moved closer, crouching to draw the wounded body into his arms.

"Ashley, I'm..."

// Sydney. //

The gray eyes were full of laughter as they stared up at him, the water still dripping from the moonlit flesh. He placed a kiss on the damp neck, delighting for the first time in years in the pleasure of a lover. In the distance a waterfall softly roared, sending jewel-like spray up into the starry sky. He laughed in sheer joy at being alive.

"Well? Are you going to take your pants off? or not!"

// Sydney. //

He pulled the chain over his head, his movements abrupt; he had little time. The blonde stared in disbelief at the silver Rood pressed into his unwilling palm. Already he could feel himself being pulled away, the void opening under his feet to swallow him. He pulled the trembling mage close, one final time, and over his shoulder he watched a beautiful dusky woman begin to cry. Ashley wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing he could do. Catching the thin face in his hands, he kissed the cultist, trying to put all of himself into it, expressing all that he would now never say.

"I love you. I'll come back. I promise. Wait for me."

// Sydney!!! //

Then there was nothing but swirling darkness, but he didn't fall fast enough. The mage's screams of anguish following him as he plunged into chaos. He tried to cover his ears, but it didn't help, only then did he realize that the cries were also his own. 

"/Mason/?!" A stinging slap broke the nightmare, sending it splintering into confusing fragments. The dark boy came back to himself covered in cold sweat, his mind seeming to be on fire. The cold energy was back, but no longer calm and collected it seemed to slosh about in a frenzy making him wildly disoriented. He couldn't focus, alternating between present and past too quickly to make sense of either, the semester-long dormancy of his alter-ego seeming to disappear in an instant. In a moment of clarity he stared at the blonde boy watching him in fear from across the bed. 

"You... You're not him... God I thought you... How could I have been so /stupid/... Oh what have I done... God what have I done... This is all /wrong/!" Before he realized what he was doing he had unthinkingly grabbed the robe and was taking the stairs two at a time. His mind was a whirlwind, and all he could concentrate on was the sudden stifling heat and suffocating /closeness/ of everything around him. Outside the winter night beckoned. He plunged out the backdoor and into a snowdrift, the icy crystals helping him to maintain a minimal grip on sanity. Mason began to run. 

/ I have to... /

// I have to...//

/ Am I too late... ?

// Oh God what if I'm too late... //

/ I've come so /far/... /

// I've worked so /hard/... //

/ Too long in chaos... I forgot my purpose.../

// I think I'm loosing my mind. //

/ What if he won't forgive me... /

// What am I going to do...? //

He didn't notice when the snow gave way to ice, running and sliding out into the center of the frozen lake.

// I have to find Sydney! //

The pressure in his mind became worse, sending him to his knees as blinding pain crushed him. He clamped his fists to his forehead and /screamed/. 

The ice under him gave an ominous crack, a network of lines branching away in a web. There was a moment of stillness, his cry echoing over the lake like a wounded thing, and then the surface gave way, plunging him into frigid darkness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

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Notes: Az, cool ne? I blame the Terminator movies, or something. So Mason gets a love life, then a clue, then loses the love life... But I think he's happier... or maybe he's just bitter. It's hard to say right now. We unfortunately get to say goodbye to Val soon, one more chapter and he's done. But don't worry he and his shadow will be back in later stories, I love him too much to let him go. Now for the /real/ adventures... Mason, I mean Ashley, has to get his Sydney back! But how far is he willing to go? His destination? East of the Sun, and West of the Moon! Join me! Next time on 'Looking for the Lost': 'I will find a way.'! Yatta! 

Thanks as always to Jenny, Twig, Ann, and Flidget for smacking me around when I was feeling apathetic, cheering me on, and generally putting up with my ceaseless ranting. And Annael, wherever you are, come back soon 'luv, we miss you, well /I/ miss you.

--Lunar

[http://roodinverse.dreamhost.com][1]

lookie! new URL!

   [1]: http://roodinverse.dreamhost.com/



	5. The Time is Now

Valor blinked sleepily, coming awake in slow lazy stages ****

Looking for the Lost: (part 4)

An AU Vagrant Story fic, rated R for language, shonen-ai scenarios, and violence. Fun fun fun.

//...// represent thoughts

*****

> My light shall be the moon   
and my path - the ocean.   
My guide the morning star   
as I sail home to you.   
(Enya-Watermark- Exile)

Valor blinked sleepily, coming awake in slow, lazy stages. His body happily noted that he was warm, well fed, and no longer in the car, in that order. The last point was the most important, he had found the drive to be unpleasantly long. Still unwilling to fully wake up, the bard stretched, or tried to. A warm weight was curled around and over him; shifting slightly in response to his ineffectual movements. Somewhere on the far side of the room a small lamp cast a faint glow, giving the spacious loft a rather cozy feel.

"Shhhh, go back to sleep." The low voice was barely a murmur, but close enough to almost make him jump. Val opened his eyes, coming fully awake.

"Huh?" Az merely sighed as the musician did the exact opposite of what he was told. He relaxed his hold slightly, preparing to pull away. "Don't do that... I'm comfy..." The demon stared in surprise at the still drowsy boy before curling back around him, feeling warm breath tickle his neck.

"As you wish." He sighed very softly, pulling his mage closer, enjoying the rare moment of uninterrupted closeness. The bard's aura burned with bright, hazy joy as he leaned closer, head propped on the black-clad shoulder. Az closed his eyes, letting the soothing energy flow over him. It was easy enough to get the nourishment he needed from his master simply from their day to day interaction, but it was a remarkably pleasant experience to rest beside him, the prolonged contact re-tuning his energies on some basic and much needed level.

"Az... Are you purring...?" The amused chuckle from under his chin was mitigated by the feeling of slender arms hugging him back, the body relaxing once more into a near slumber. The demon remained silent, silently coaxing the boy back to sleep as he breathed in the scent of his hair. Valor was holding out for some perverse reason however, his mind skillfully avoiding the voiceless cues. "Stop trying to manipulate me, Fuzzy. It won't work." He grinned. "I'm tired. But not /that/ tired... besides... It's been a while since we've done this, just... /be/... Kinda nice really... relaxing..." 

The bard sighed, closing his eyes. The last time he had felt such a comforting feeling had been before coming to school, and then, the setting hadn't be half as nice.

// A boxcar, as I recall, I was so /cold/... It was winter, and we fled Detroit with the Hunters two steps behind... It began to snow... the train yard looked so spooky in the moonlight and he carried me over the drifts so that we wouldn't leave a trail... I was shivering so hard I was afraid I'd shake apart... //

In the relative safety of an empty train car, they had huddled together for warmth, or rather the bard had found himself tucked into a tight embrace, slowly thawed by his companions constant heat. Az, as ever uncaring of temperature -- including his own -- kept a tense vigil through out the long night as his precious burden slept, using only enough energy to alert him of danger, and keep the icy winds at bay. Valor shivered slightly at the memory, recalling the almost human wail of the winds between the cars, the random creaks and bangs of rusted metal that had caused the hair on his neck to rise in dread. He had burrowed his face into the strong shoulder, and had gradually found himself relaxing, his fears melting away. It had been a melancholy sort of bliss, to be held, protected all through the stormy night. Sensing the nature of the bard's thoughts, the demon only held him closer, reminding him of the present.

// That's right... I'm in a bedroom of an incredibly posh house, not in some haunted god-forsaken train yard... that was a long time... We've come such a long way since then, like it was a different life almost. There's nothing like /that/ that's going to happen tonight... // The smile found its way back. // The 'deviants' are probably all tucked in for the night... and my little nap seems to have guaranteed that I've missed overhearing anything embarrassing... // He was about to finally give up and sleep, when a distant shout brought him back to full wakefulness. 

"What the..."

"Shhhhh." Az was on full-alert, tense and listening with all his senses as the distant clamor continued, footsteps pounding down the stairs and slamming out of the front door. For a moment, the house was silent, and they looked at each other in confusion. Before Valor could frame the question, there were footsteps on the stairs again, this time racing upwards towards his loft. The demon kept him on the bed, the arm across his chest pinning him safely in place. Onyx eyes did not even blink as Steven burst through the door, hair and bathrobe in disarray. The blonde mage's expression a mixture of fear and fury.

"Who the fuck is Sydney?!"

The bard blinked at the shout, completely thrown by the change in atmosphere in the room. "...What...?" Az growled softly as the mage's aura flared challengingly with his anxiety. 

Taking in the older boy's confused expression, and the other boy's challenging one, Steven lost his emotional momentum. Wavering for a moment, he slowly sank to the floor, and began to cry. Pushing free of the heavy grip, Valor untangled himself from the bed and guided the mage to a chair, still baffled.

"What's the matter? Why aren't you asleep? What just happened...?" He kept his question's gentle as the exchange student sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him like a life-line. The answers, when they came out, were halting.

"Mason!... It's Mason..."

The bard felt a sudden tingle of fear down his spine, but refused to allow his voice to change. "What about Mason... you were together... yes?" He winced as a natural conclusion arose, not wanting to believe it. "Did... did he /hurt/ you...?" He almost sighed in relief when the mage gave him a half-confused, half-frustrated look.

"What...? No... no everything was fine... /better/ than fine... but then... it... Mason's /not/ Mason! He /was/ Mason, and then we... and I don't know how... but he's /not/! He said... He said... but it /wasn't/ him!"

Val looked up at Az, bewildered by the cryptic wail. Crouching down to examine the musician's burden, Az simply shrugged. "Mason is no longer in the house..." His eyes went distant, confused. "Mason is... odd, I cannot find him. He can't have gone far... but I can't find him..." The bard gave the still whimpering body a rough shake. 

"Snap out of it Steven! What /happened/! I need to know /exactly/ what happened." The mage looked at him a stunned moment and blushed brightly, stammering even worse.

"What do you m-m-m-mean 'what happened!' We... well... it was late... and he took a shower... and then... "

Shaking his head at the embarrassed boy, Val tried to gather a more useful sort of information. "Yes, yes, I /know/ what you were planning... Did he... seem 'odd' at all? Distant? Spacey?"

Thinking back, Steven shook his head, nothing about the evening has seemed at all out of place. He could still feel the tingle of excitement from the way the Guardian had touched him. The dark eyes so full of adoration as they had explored each other, needing no guidance, doing everything right. The thought, combined with the worried questions now aimed at him, brought him to a sudden and sickening halt. "Wait." He pulled away from the bard. "Wait just a /damn/ minute..."

Valor blinked at the sudden angry tone. "Huh?"

"You!! It was /you/! How could you! You... you... /bitch/... I was wondering how Mason knew how... I mean /no one/ is that good on their first try! /No one!/... But it wouldn't have been his first time, would it! Not if you'd been /Fucking/ him behind my back! How /could/ you! He was /mine/!" The blonde made to lunge at bard's dumbstruck throat, but was suddenly and unarguably pinned, a pair of unsympathetic hands forcefully holding him back, pushing him to his knees.

"Baseless accusations will not help to resolve this matter, mageling. Valor wishes to know what happened. I suggest that you tell him." Responding to the barely veiled threat, Steven looked over his shoulder, prepared to hurl an insult, followed by a fireball. The words died on his lips, unspoken as he was transfixed by an icy glare at very close range. For the second time that night he realized he had somehow lost control of the situation, that he had stumbled onto something that he wished he hadn't. The mage began to tremble again, unable to look away from the odd black-on-black eyes.

"Stop it, Az." The demon blinked, breaking the terrifying moment, and Steven slumped forward as his hands were released. Valor and his familiar glared at each other in silence before the bard returned his attentions to his friend. "Steven... You know me better than that... I told you in the beginning... I don't /want/ him... Or rather, I did once... but... whatever. I wouldn't do that to you... but you say he... he was, ummm..."

"Very, /very/ good. /Too/ good. It was weird, but nice, very very nice... but then he... when it was over... he sort of..." The blonde chose his words carefully, needing to be believed. "When he... 'finished'... no, even before that... he was murmuring you know... like people do... but now that I think of it... he was talking in French..." Valor's eyebrows went up, considering the meaning of it. "And then, when he finished... he... he called a name... but it wasn't /mine/!"

"In French?"

"I don't know, it was a name!"

" ...'Sydney'...?" The bard tasted the name, uncertain what to make of it.

"Interesting..." The demon's deep voice, usually silent, caused them both to jump and glare at the black-clad teen. Az simply shrugged. "And then?"

The mage copied the shrug helplessly. "I... I got /mad/... what else? But it was... He was there, in my /bed/... but it wasn't /him/... it was... it was someone /else/... and he... he ran away..."

"Oh god... it's like four degrees outside! What's he wearing?!"

"Ummmm... a bathrobe, I think..."

Valor bit his lip, thinking hurriedly. "He'll freeze to death. Az. Go find him. Bring him here. Hurry. Do whatever it takes." The dark boy stood fluidly, moving to unlatch a window. "Az!" Perched on the sill, about to slip into the freezing night, he turned, waiting. "Handle him gently, he may not be... himself."

"Understood." For a blurred moment, it seemed as though the black jeans and turtleneck had sprung feathers, the lanky form becoming indeterminate. Steven blinked, disbelieving his eyes as a large raven launched itself out the third floor window, ghosting out into the night. Valor shivered against the draft as he latched the frame again, taking a breath to steady himself. He pulled a quilt off the forlorn bed, wrapping it around his sniffling guest wordlessly before guiding him downstairs.

"I think I could go with some tea right now... You could too."

"Valor... what's going on..."

"I don't know... but if it makes you feel better... I don't think it's your fault."

// Rather... I feel as if I've been expecting this since the moment I first met him... Who are you Mason... a boy with far too many secrets... that's who... Not unlike yourself, Val... remember? //

He grimaced and left the other student in front of the fireplace as he wandered into the kitchen.

*****

No true raven would have tolerated the icy winds that blew across the wooded country side at night, but Az had never paid much attention to such things. He spread his wings gliding effortlessly in the crystalline air as he followed the broken trail that ran through the snow. Mason was an exceptionally strong and clever human, but in the end, that was all he was, only human. 

// So where /are/ you boy... // 

The trail lead him in a straight line onto a vast flat field. He picked up speed, certain he could find his target in mere moments. It wasn't until he came to a darker, smooth patch of ground at the end of the trail that he realized what he had been flying over.

// Ice! A frozen lake! // He circled the trail's end, losing speed and landing as gently as possible on the fragile surface, resuming his human shape. There was already a thin sheet of the clear substance forming over the recent hole. Stepping daintily nearer, he dropped to his knees to peer into the murky depths. With a grunt of satisfaction, he cocked a fist, and drove it solidly through the new ice, reaching deep into the water. It was simple enough to pull the half frozen form from the lake. He used one tendril of energy to lift them both into the air, and another to begin to warm the Guardian. Az paused a moment to study the boy's curiously flickering aura before sniffing him curiously. 

// Familiar... that... I smelled this once before... a long time ago... // Dismissing the useless thought he gathered the limp body over his shoulder and landing on the shore, sprinted back to the house. His only challenger in the moonlit forest was a startled owl.

*****

"You know... it's funny..." Valor mused into his teacup, watching the re-lit fire burn merrily. "You always are so jealous that Maisie and I might be together... but you've never once asked why we weren't..."

Steven looked up from his study of the carpet to give his friend an odd look. "Why? I always just figured you never had the balls to seduce him... or did he turn you down...?"

The bard sniffed primly. "I do not need to seduce people. And how could he turn me down if I never asked?"

"I don't know... " The mage sighed. "So why did you never ask... I mean, you two are so tight sometimes you can finish each other's sentences... like a real mage-guardian pair... like lovers..."

"... Like brothers..." Valor felt faintly superior at the way the mage flinched at the rebuttal. "There are many kinds of love Etienne... maybe not as popular... but just as valid..."

"But you said you wanted him...?"

"At first... but I changed my mind."

"...Why...?" His voice clearly betrayed the fact that he couldn't see how it was possible.

The bard smirked at the fire, acknowledging to himself --if to no one else-- that he still could, and /did/ desire the Guardian. It was a futile thing however, an idle dream he would never pursue. His heart already belonged to another, the revelation recent and startling. "There were two things I realized when I met Mason, two things that I just /knew/ the moment I laid eyes on him... The first was that he was the most perfect man I had ever met." He smiled gently. "And in all likeliness... he'll always be. The second? I knew... I knew that he was not for me. Mason was saving himself... saving himself for someone special... /really/ special... sometimes he'd get this far away look... and I'd /know/ he was thinking of them... /him/... 'Sydney,' apparently... whoever he is."

"You could have told me..." The blond could help but feel horribly jilted by the evening's events. Sure, he had finally lured the tempting boy to bed, but with the shock of what had happened after, it had so far been a singularly unpleasant night.

"Well, to be honest... I thought you /were/ 'him'." The bard grimaced again. "Maisie'd watch you with these big puppy eyes... and I thought... well I figured I'd get you two together and see if anything happened."

"Great. And now he's gone psycho, some friend you are."

"Shut up, Steven." Valor rubbed his forehead, "He /was/ happy... Everything was fine..."

"Yeah, until I shagged him..."

"Stop it."

"I'm forever going to be known as the guy who Mason slept with the night he went /insane/! What do you want me to do, be /happy/ about this?!"

"You may be my friend Steven, but sometimes, you're a real prick. You know that, right?"

"Fuck you."

"I shudder at the thought."

The front door banged open, letting in a draft for the second time that night. Az stood calmly on the hall carpet, snow melting off of him quickly enough to steam as he shut the door. It wasn't until he deposited his limp burden on the couch that Valor worked up the nerve to speak.

"Is he...?"

"Chilled, but physically sound."

Steven's eyes narrowed. "What about 'mentally'...?"

The demon simply shrugged, making room at the Guardian's side for Val to cautiously check him for signs of obvious damage. He winced at the random lacerations across the sleeping boys face and arms. "Az, did you..."

"No. He must have run through the forest." He bent to pull a pinecone from the still damp robe as evidence.

"I'll get the First-Aid kit."

The mage silently fidgeted as he watched the two black-haired boys work; uncertain if he was expected to help, and unwilling to ask.

*****

// ... Sydney...? // For a confused moment, his tired brain couldn't remember where he was, the flickering firelight reminding him of long evenings spent in the cozy kitchen, his feet propped up on the bench as he watched his lover. The mage was reading a book, absently pausing to sip at his tea, noting that he was being watched, the gray eyes flicked upwards, looking at him in silent inquiry. He shrugged and pretended to return to his inventing, only to look up again after the blonde had returned to his book. It was uncanny how detailed the image was, even down to the pattern on the teacup, it felt as though it had happened only yesterday, instead of years ago. Ashley blinked, coming awake with a lurch. 

// Years... God... how long... how long have I been away? // There were alarming gaps in his memories between the part of him that was clearly 'Ashley' and the smaller, newer portion that was 'Mason', but the math was simple enough, and the result disturbing. // It's... it's 1951... over two hundred years... it's taken 200 years?! No... not possible... //

"Mason?" 

He blinked at the soft question, looking around for the first time. His body felt odd, half of him expecting to be full-grown, the other half balking at the idea. It made his movements hesitant, jerky. It did not go unobserved by his companion. Az perched on the arm of the sofa, watching him get his bearings with an unreadable expression. For a silent moment they stared at one another, each trying to gage the other's reaction.

// That's right... I'm 'Mason' now... // At the thought, he felt himself shift internally, and shook his head to the plaintive complaints of his adolescent personality. His entire body felt like one massive bruise.

"Gah, damn but I hurt... "

"You're lucky to be alive at all..." 

The quiet response caused him to stare in alarm, trying to recall the events of the past few hours. // I was... Oh crap I slept with... // 

// Sydney's going to kill me. //

// And then... I ... woke up...? // 

// I'm not supposed to be 'awake' yet... it's too soon... //

// Even forgetting everything... I can't believe I did /that/... // The duality of his thoughts was amusing but made it hard to concentrate. 'Mason' was trying vainly to take control of the situation, but he calmly denied the desire. // Focus damn it! //

// In an effort to make the pain of transition stop, I ran outside... //

// Into the snow... //

// I remember water... we fell through thin ice... //

// Az must have found me. //

"Are you... alright?" The demon was watching him closely, his tone worried.

Ashley fought to keep himself together, the two distinct aspects of his personality pulling him in opposite directions. "I'm... no, I'm not 'alright'... This is going to take some getting used to..."

"You... odd... your aura has changed."

The still shivering boy sat up, watching the dark eyes carefully. "Has it? I wouldn't know." He stumbled to his feet.

// Careful.... the demon knows... and there's no way I can pick a fight with it now...not without the Rood... //

"Mason, what are you doing?" The familiar was standing too, silently moving to block him.

"I... just want to change my clothes..." 

"I don't think you should be up just yet."

"I feel fine." It was an odd feeling to pretend to be himself, Ashley found the customary expressions came easily, but it still felt as though he didn't quite belong, the worried demon both a close friend and a total stranger.

"Mason...?" A sleepy voice alerted him that the demon was not his only problem and he turned to see another boy untangle himself from a quilt. Valor rubbed his eyes a moment before staring joyfully at him. "Oh thank god, you're awake..." His voice trailed off as they silently stared at one another, his face draining of color. "Oh... it's you. I thought it might have been you... "

Ashley blinked, "You know who I am?"

"Not really... but when Steven said that you weren't /you/... well, I had a hunch..." The bard drew closer, catching the guardian's face between his hands to look at him closely. "I can tell you know... when he switches over... I thought... well it doesn't matter what I thought... whoever you are, thank you for helping Mason all this time... but please, go away. I like my friend a lot better when he's not possessed."

"You think I'm possessed?" He would have laughed at the idea if not for the sad gray eyes. Ashley shook his head slightly, "Mason isn't possessed... Mason... Mason never really existed."

"What...?"

Az blinked in sudden understanding. "You.... you were there all along... sleeping. I could sense you... hiding inside of the boy..."

"Az...?" Valor released his friend, backing away from the couch in fear. "What do you mean Mason never /existed/?!"

"Shhhhhh! Don't shout you'll wake everyone up!" Ashley was suddenly very aware of the fact that there were several other people in the house, at least half of them mages. "Calm down... everything will be alright... just stay calm."

"Who /are/ you?" The bard sank, defeated, back into the chair; his familiar moving to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The temptation to retreat to a distant corner of his mind, and allow Mason to handle the situation was high; but he needed answers first, answers he was certain that the demon could provide. // But first to appease Mason's friends before they decide to try to exorcise me or something even more drastic... // From the sulking adolescent's memories, the words 'Hunters' floated to the surface of his mind. It did not have a pleasant sound.

"... My name... is Ashley." He chose his words slowly. "I... created Mason... out of a piece of myself... a mask if you will. Someone who /was/ me... but also was not."

"...Why...?"

"Because I needed time... to grow up, to grow strong, to get ready..."

"I don't understand..."

"I'm sorry Valor... I didn't do this to hurt you... I never wanted to hurt anyone... But it seems I've gone and made a mess of things... like I always do... Sydney would laugh at me... right after he finished gouging out my eyes..." He sank onto the couch, resting his chin on his hands.

"That name... 'Sydney' who /is/ Sydney?! I wish I'd never heard that name!" Ashley met the boy's frustrated glare, and felt even worse, every choice before him required him to betray someone he cared about. It couldn't be helped, in the end he had only one true loyalty. 

"Sydney is... he's my mage... well /was/ my mage... and hopefully still is." He took a breath, "A long time ago... I... made a mistake. We were separated... but I promised I'd find him again. Now that I'm awake, I can begin. I've taken too much time already."

"Wait! You just can't go off on a wild goose chase! Mason has to finish /school/! He has friends! /Family/! You just can't take him away!" Valor wiped his tears away angrily. "We won't let you!"

"You're not listening! I /am/ Mason! Or more correctly, he is a part of /me/. School is irrelevant, I can't waste any more time! Sydney needs me! I can feel it!"

"If I believed you, which I /don't/... where will you go? Do you even know where to /start/? Or will you just wander blindly? Mason would never do something like this! He'd never take a risk like this without first thinking it through!"

The knight frowned, clenching his fists in frustration. "I know where he is... I just don't know how to get there."

"Well, we need to work on that, don't we..." Valor's candid comment elicited a snort from the demon. Turning to the dark shape at his side, he thought a moment. "I... I'm out of my depth here Az... You stay here, I don't want Mason moving an inch. I'm going to go get Nelson... He'll know what to do..."

"Wait..." The bard froze, but didn't turn to face the guardian. 

"What..."

"...Is Steven alright?"

The musician sighed softly. "I put him to bed, he's... very angry with you."

"Understandable."

Ashley returned his gaze to the demon as Valor walked quietly out of the room.

*****

Nelson came awake from an amazing dream of rockets and dazzling moon-women to an insistent soft tapping on the bedroom door. For a lazy moment he refused to move, sleeping naked on silk sheets was an almost sinful delight, especially when there was an equally naked and amazingly sexy boy sprawled across his chest. It had been a /very/ productive trip thus far, and this was only the first night. The mage stretched lazily, his exhausted companion not even stirring at the movement, and glanced over at the glowing dial of the alarm clock. It read 4am. He bit off a curse.

// I don't care if the house is on /fire/... /Nobody/ wakes me up at 4AM.../ever/... //

Thoroughly irritated he sent a tendril of thought towards the door, sensing the bard's quiet fear like an icy bucket of water down his pants. All thoughts of pleasure forgotten, he silently untangled himself from Anton, and slipped across the room.

"Valor?"

"Get dressed and come down stairs... something has happened."

"I heard shouting earlier... but I figured..."

"It's /serious/... please hurry."

Nelson caught the bard's arm as he turned away. "Hey, where you going?"

"To get Steven."

"Up stairs? I thought he and Guardian-boy were down the hall."

"They were, now Steven is in /my/ room."

"Where's Mason?"

"I... I don't know. In the living room, sort of."

"What do you mean 'Sort of'...?!" The mage's whisper was an alarmed hiss. Images of a well cooked guardian danced unpleasantly through his head.

// Oh boy, if they had a fight... but I wouldn't have been able to sleep through /that/... or if I had Anton /certainly/ would've have noticed... no matter /how/ busy we were... //

"Too much to explain twice, just get dressed." The slim boy darted quietly upstairs.

The blonde mage looked for a longing moment back towards the bed, but it was no use, the tempting sight would have to wait.

// First I figure out what the fuck is going on... then I tuck the kiddies back in bed... then I come back and wake him up and see if he's just as wild in daylight as he was last night... // With a smirk he tiptoed to the closet and began throwing on clothes.

*****

As far as jailers went, Az was one of the quieter ones he had ever encountered. The Riskbreaker sighed softly and resumed his study of the demon. With his newly awakened senses he could see /something/ of the demon's aura, but without the supporting energies of the Dark, he was for all intents and purposes, magicless. It was an irritating position to be in, especially when he needed it so badly.

// If I could just make him hear me... /surely/ he'd come... He has enough power to do /that/... and then I'd know he was alright... and he'd know I was coming... that I haven't forgotten him... but there's /nothing/ no way... this body has never been exposed to the Dark... and I have no idea where the Rood is... there /must/ be another way into the shadows. //

"Hey Az...?"

"Yes..."

"You're very old, aren't you..."

"I guess I am, by human standards."

"Over 400?"

"Over 4000... at least."

"Have you ever heard of a place called 'The Shadows'...? Or of a woman known as Müllencamp?"

The demon thought carefully for a moment before shaking his head in denial. "No, I'm sorry... these things mean nothing to me."

"Really? You don't know anything about a goddess who ruled a kingdom carved from the very seas of chaos? Of a type of magic referred to only as 'the Dark'?"

Head jerking up to stare at him sharply, Az hissed in amazement. "What do /you/ know of the Dark?!"

Ashley smiled grimly, "Quite a lot actually... more than enough to know that you're /soaked/ in it... How is that possible if you do not know Müllencamp...? I had thought perhaps that she had created you..."

"I... I have been out of touch with the world for a very long time, I think... It is possible that she existed after my time..."

"Out of touch? Back in the warehouse, those men said Valor had 'awakened' you... How long had you slept?!"

"I wasn't asleep... just imprisoned... for... 8000 years, as far as I can tell." The demon grimaced, "I lost track of time after the first 1000 or so..."

"But Val let you out?"

"...Yes... by accident."

"That's a long time..."

"Yes, and it seems that now... the Dark... it doesn't exist anymore... not the way it used to... It is no matter, I've learned to gather energy from elsewhere..."

"Impossible, the Dark cannot cease to be... it is necessary to life!... It /is/ destruction, it cannot be /destroyed/... /Forgotten/... but never /destroyed/..." Ashley's face grew thoughtful, comprehension dawning. "My God, it worked then... if even /you/ can't find it... it really worked...."

"What worked...?"

"The curse."

"What curse?!"

The Riskbreaker shrugged eloquently, "Never mind." He ignored the familiar's frustrated growl. "Hey Az..."

"... What."

"You can go /anywhere/ right? Go between realities, stuff like that?"

"... Yes..."

"If there was a country, an island in the sea of chaos... could you find it? Could you take me there?" 

There was no particular emotion attached to the question, none that the demon could sense. The guardian's face was full of idle curiosity. He considered the question while waiting for his master to return. "Perhaps, but I wouldn't do it."

"Why not?"

"Chaos is /infinite/ Mason... or Ashley, or whoever you are... even if I /did/ find it... I would have to leave Valor unguarded while I searched... which is inconceivable... and in all likelihood, /finding/ it would take longer than you have... Forget about it, I will not help you."

"I understand. You must do what is right for you... and I would never ask you to abandon Val... that would be cruel."

"Surely you will find a better way of finding this country you seek."

"Without the Dark? It may well be impossible."

"My even existing in this world again is proof that nothing is impossible... some things are just more difficult than others."

"Finding the Shadows without the Dark will be very /very/ difficult then."

"Indeed."

*****

"I don't want to go down there..."

"Don't be ridiculous... He's worried about you! And I'll be there... and Nelson..."

"/NELSON/?! You Told Nelson?!"

"I had to tell /someone/! Az and I don't exactly know what to /do/ here..."

"I /can't/ go down there... not if Nelson..."

Val fought the urge to scream at the blonde boy's stubbornness. "You /will/ come, because I'll need help explaining what's going on to Nel... and besides, two powerful mages are better than one... and he Might need your Help!"

"... Alright..." Steven nervously belted his robe, reluctantly following the bard down the hall. 

// This is going to end badly... I just know it... that's /Not/ Mason... Mason's gone... I... no, it's not my fault, damn it! It's /not/... //

Still he couldn't help but sniffle a bit, self pity getting the better of him in the drafty darkness.

*****

"What /do/ you remember...?" The demon was sitting primly in the chair as the guardian paced restlessly in front of the fireplace. His shadow bent and stretched disturbingly around the room with every turn he made on the carpet. Az's question hung in the warm air, as the dark teen watched him, eyes unblinking.

"Everything... but it's all in pieces, Fuck! Everything always goes all to pieces! It's like I'm two people in one head... Just once... just /once/ I'd like to be at the beginning of something and know who the fuck I was... it's like I'm going to be doing everything all /over/ again..."

"...'everything'...?" Az raised a curious eyebrow, trying to keep his companion calm.

Mason's eyes went distant as he gazed into the fire, finally standing still as he considered the idea. "Funny thing... it started this way last time too... but I didn't know it then, not until later, after I found Sydney... but it was the same... a late night meeting, firelight, a mission... and a long journey. It /always/ starts with walking... just once... I'd like to start out and already be where I need to be..."

"You intend to find this 'Sydney' then? Are you certain he still exists...?"

"... I... I don't know, Az, I just don't know...but I can't /not/ go... You'd sooner die than abandon Val... well it's the same for me..."

"Val does not want you to go..." 

"... I know..." Mason looked at him briefly, a mere flicker of fire-bright eyes. "But what do /you/ say...?"

"I..."

"Ahem." The two teens turned suddenly, the tense mood broken by the polite cough at the door. Lounging against the frame, Nelson didn't miss the way that the guardian instinctively grabbed for a weapon that wasn't there. His eyes narrowed, considering the pair. The undercurrents of energy in the room were enough to threaten to make his hair stand on end. "Well now... it seems that tonight's been a busy one for you guys as well..."

"...Nelson. I..." The voice was low, oddly hesitant as their eyes met. Fighting silently for his usual composure, the blonde pushed away from the door and moved forward until he was standing toe-to-toe with the taller boy. He wordlessly stared at the two, studying first the boy in front of him then his companion in the chair. The silence drew out into an unbearable moment before he pulled away, collapsing onto the couch with a dissatisfied sigh.

"Sit down, Mason, I'm not about to ask what the hell is going on before Val gets here, though God knows I'm tempted..." Sharp blue eyes fixed on the demon. "And believe me, when he gets here... he's going to have some explaining to do... I don't like being lied to... /Az/..." The black clad boy merely blinked.

*****

"Val... He's not Mason... you know that... right? Whatever he... /it/, whatever that is... it's not Mason...." Steven had caught his arm as he reached out for the knob, holding them in the dark hallway. 

The bard hesitated, not looking back as he spoke. "... He says much the same... but I don't think he means any harm..."

"The dead cannot be trusted, Val... Not when they're this powerful... not when their motives are unknown..."

"You think he's possessed...?"

"...I dunno... but... the alternatives are even worse..."

"...alternatives...?"

"... It's entirely possible that Mason... /our/ Mason... never existed at all... whatever he is... he could've been lying all along..."

// Just like /he/... 'Mason isn't possessed... Mason... Mason never really existed.' He said that... but... // Valor shook his head, "But if it were possession, couldn't we just... make it go? I mean we're /mages/, that counts for /something/ doesn't it...?"

"Exorcism at this level is a very advanced spell... maybe if Nel and I and Ant put our heads together... but if we do it wrong..." He shuddered slightly. "We could lose him... forever..."

"And if we do nothing... he's already as good as gone..."

Steven squared his shoulders, reaching for the doorknob. "There's another possibility of course... but hopefully it won't come to that... Come on... Let's get this over with." Fear transformed into frustrated anger, he pulled his friend into the room with a sharp jerk. They stumbled into the warm den, blinking owlishly at the cheery light.

"Come in, come in... I've successfully killed the /last/ conversation, I believe it'll be your turn next..." Nelson's sardonic drawl, so perfectly at ease and familiar, helped to cut through most of the tension in the room. Val suppressed an audible sigh of relief as he shut the door, following the other mage to stand by the chair. A gentle hand tugged him down until he was perching on the over-stuffed arm, tangling with the fingers of his left hand in a comforting gesture. He looked at his familiar briefly, sparing him a small smile, and looked up to catch the red-robed mage's appraising eye. "Remind me to yell at you later about your tastes in men... and pets...music-boy..." The bard had the grace to flush, ducking his head.

"It's not like that."

"Oh I think it's /just/ like that... but I've got a feeling that /he/," the mage pointed at Az. "...is not the reason you got me out of bed at this positively unholy hour..." The slim finger swung around to indicate the silent teen still standing by the fire. "He's /far/ more interesting to discuss... don't you think?"

"That's not Mason!" Steven couldn't help but repeat himself, determined that he be listened to. "I don't care what it says... /don't/ trust it!"

"Steven, I..."

"You don't get a say in this... whoever you are..." Nelson made a vague 'shushing' noise to the boy next to him, turning towards Valor for a better explanation.

"Well... your audience is here... start talking."

"I think it'd be better if he spoke for himself."

// At this rate, it'll take me all night to figure things out... //

//... nelson...? // The blonde froze, a tiny worried whisper in his mind distracting him from his irritation.

//... Curly? Is that you? //

// ... Where are you...? I woke up... and was cold... and you weren't here... //

He almost smiled at the sleepy petulance he heard in the faint thoughts. // Go back to sleep, love, I'll be there soon... //

//... Ok...// Nelson opened his eyes to see that everyone was staring at him. He quickly removed the silly smile from his face.

"What. Fuck off, I at least was having a pleasant night..." The mage glared at Mason, "You, you want to tell me /why/ I can just go upstairs and get back to sleep?!"

"What do you want to know..."

"Everything, who /are/ you...? Why are you here? What have you done to Mason? and most importantly, how do we make you go away?"

He watched in amusement as the boy visibly sagged, sighing softly before looking him dead in the eye. "First of all, my name isn't Mason. It's Ashley, and I'm over six hundred years old."

*****

"Where will you go...?"

"I have to find the Key..."

"What 'Key'? Where is it?"

Ashley shook his head, unwilling to tell them more then he had to, the less they knew they safer they'd be. "The Key is the key... as for where... I guess I'll start by going where I left it... although it's probably no longer there."

Nelson rubbed his forehead trying to stave off a headache, "And /where/ is that?" Valor was fast asleep again, a blanket-wrapped bundle pillowed against his familiar's knee. The demon continued to watch everything, expression impassive. He spared another glance to look beside him, Steven was still wide awake, but silent, glaring obstinately at the shadowy figure in front of the fire.

"...China..."

Both blondes sat up a little straighter, alert once more. "CHINA?!" The usually collected mage gaped as his friend sputtered.

"Imposibl¾ ! Not possible! You /can't/ take Mason to China! It's... no!"

Trying to keep his voice reasonable, Nelson waved an eloquent hand. "Surely you don't expect us to just let you use our friend, attempt to cross the Pacific Ocean, and take him into a hostile country... just to satisfy some death-bed promise... come now Mr. Ghost... try and ask for something a /little/ more reasonable. How do we know that you won't kill him when you're done with him... or even kill him in the attempt...? That's not precisely a safe country to be in right now... communists militants aren't known for their sense of humor..."

"I'm going."

"Not unless we say you are, you're not."

"You can't stop me."

"I beg to differ... we have you out numbered for one."

"Two half trained mages, hardly a challenge."

"... And five more sleeping upstairs, but please, try not to insult me, my pride is so fragile you know..."

"Humph."

"... Besides..." His smile, learned from watching his father in the boardroom, was all teeth and no joy. "Don't forget... sleeping beauty over there is also opposed to Mason being put in harm's way... Now I realize that the desires of one bard, no matter how gifted, don't mean much... but consider... with a guard-dog like that... what Val wants... Val gets."

The anger in the air was almost palpable as the guardian turned to stare at the dark teen again, their eyes meeting in silent challenge. // But Az can't act counter to orders... and Val explicitly told him not to hurt me... //

"Valor also instructed me to keep you contained in this room until a decision was reached..."

"Get out of my head." The growl was pointless, he had nothing to back up the statement with, and they both knew it. Unprovoked, the demon continued to sit, hand absently stroking the head of the sleeping student.

"Now... I'm sure you'll see that it's in your best interests to be cooperative... you're hardly about to slaughter us all... and that's just about what you'd have to do to stop us from keeping you here... so please... I'd like to speak to /Mason/ now... if you don't mind."

"... I've already told you... I /am/ Mason, you pretentious young fop!"

Nelson's eyes narrowed. "Mind your manners." He would have spoken further, but a hand on his sleeve caught his attention. The other mage jerked his chin towards the door.

"Val, wake up!" The sleeping bard sat up, blinking slowly. "Conference. Hallway. Now." Pulled to his feet, Val allowed himself to be hauled out of the room, yawning hugely as the other two waited in worried silence.

"...China... Jesus... if it had been someplace close, Hell even in the US, maybe it would've been worth it to go with him and hope to placate the guy... but this...?"

"China?!" Having missed the last half of the conversation, Valor was floored. "We /can't/ go to China! That's... that's really far!"

"He doesn't care what happens to Mason... he thinks /he/ is the real person..."

"So he's a ghost?"

The two fifth levels stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Nelson shrugged, "He 'feels' dead... there's something else too, but... yeah, I think he's a ghost."

"I agree." Steven's expression was pinched and business like.

Valor hesitated, instinctively reaching out with his mind to the one constant support of his life. // Az...? What do I do... //

// I... I don't know. //

// Is he a ghost...? //

// I don't know that either... I /should/... but I don't... // It was strange to hear anxiety instead of the usually unshakable calm. The bard bit his lip, worried.

"What do we do...?"

The French boy fidgeted a moment before looking up, eyes distant. "I think it's time that we call in a professional."

"No way! If we call the authorities, Mason will spend the rest of his life locked in a magically-warded padded room!" Nelson glared at the shorter boy, "No, we handle this ourselves, no Hunters... no 'authorities'."

"I agree." 

"Don't worry... he's not that sort of professional... besides, he's family." Steven moved purposefully down the hall to the study. It took no time to locate the phone and begin to dial.

"Who are you calling...?" 

The mage looked at Valor calmly despite his white knuckled grip on the handset. ".... my uncle." Despite the odd hour, the connection was made, the phone answered by an unidentified female voice. "Hello, Aunt Elsie? I need to talk to Vincent. It's important."

*****

The snowy morning was a blur of trees and highway as the black limo sped silently along its way. Elsie peered lazily out the window, too tired to concentrate on the binder in her lap. It had been a long night, and promised to be a longer morning.

// At least another hour before we get anywhere close... and with the roads in the condition that they're in... probably more... even if Greig is 'adjusting' them slightly... // Thinking of the taciturn werewolf, her eyes flickered to the driver, an unremarkable man in a uniform and hat. She smiled softly. // With Greig driving... it'll be alright, worse case, we get caught in a snow bank and he tows the car... or Vincent... if he feels like waking up... // Her husband was slouched against her in the spacious back seat, his body a heavy but welcome weight at her side. Checking him carefully, more out of habit than any real concern, she took a measure of the shallow breathing and residual warmth. The diffuse white light that trickled through the snowstorm was no danger, his only concession to the brightness being a pair of sunglasses balanced precariously on his nose. 

// He always sleeps like a baby after eating... funny man... but if he didn't feel safe, he wouldn't... so why do I worry? // Elsie stared out the window again, thoughtful. // Steven has always been an excitable child... more than likely this is nothing... although if it is, I'm sorry for him. Vince is not one to appreciate being dragged out of Manhattan at the crack of dawn to drive across country... even if he /does/ sleep through it. // Sighing, she put the portfolio back in her briefcase, slouching lower in the seat to lean against her dozing husband. What ever happened would happen, she refused to give the nagging feeling of doubt any serious thought.

*****

"Talk to me Val..."

"What do you want me to say...?"

"Anything, I just wish you'd stop looking at me as if I was some kind of monster or something..."

The bard curled into a smaller ball, leaning against the headboard of his bed, eyes fixed on his hands. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm not a ghost you know..." The guardian sighed as his statement was ignored, the thinner boy hugging himself. "Go to sleep then, crazy bard... You're still exhausted."

"No, I'm ok..."

Ashley rubbed his face, slouching further back into the easy chair. The meeting down stairs had drawn to an unsatisfactory close, the three mages telling him that they needed more time before they could decide what to do with him.

// They're never going to believe... it's too far fetched... All I can do is wait until they relax their guard... then I'll just slip away... // Looking around the room with lidded-eyes, he found he was still under constant if lazy observation by the demon. // Of course, Az isn't exactly the sort of person to 'relax'... some sort of diversion perhaps? But he and I... if anyone would believe... wouldn't it be him...? If only I could talk to him without Val. If I could convince him to turn a blind eye...I'd be home free. But convincing Az would mean convincing Valor... and somehow I don't see that happening. // 

Almost frantically worried, the bard had vehemently overruled Nelson's suggestion that Mason be sealed inside a barrier until help arrived. He had won in the end only with the solemn promise that the guardian trainee would be kept under constant supervision for the long hours before Steven's family arrived. The dark-haired boy had readily agreed. Ashley sighed as he watched the bard stifle another yawn.

"Val..."

"I'm /fine/..."

"Az can watch me you know... I'm not about to bolt..."

"How can I trust you?! You've already almost killed yourself once tonight, and I'd..."

"It won't happen again, Jesus Val, I'm not suicidal! Quite the contrary in fact! There's a lot riding on my staying alive this time..."

"...'this time"... Will you /listen/ to yourself? Mason doesn't talk like this!"

"He would, if he had been through what I've been through."

"You don't know that..."

"As it's /me/ we're talking about, I'd like to disagree... but that's not the point."

"What is the point then..."

"The point is, you're tired, Val... and I'm worried about you."

"Why...?"

"Because up until this morning, I /was/ Mason, all his thoughts, memories, feelings... they're right /here/..." The guardian pointed at his chest emphatically. "You're still my friend damn it, even if I'm not yours... and as a friend, I'm telling you, you can trust Az, you can trust me... I won't go anywhere... for the next twelve hours anyway... and if you don't get more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep soon, the rings under your eyes will make you look like a raccoon."

"He's right, you should sleep." The smooth voice caused the bard's head to jerk up, staring at his familiar. "I will watch him."

"Az?"

"It will be... alright. Sleep, Valor."

"...If you say so..." With a sigh, the boy slid sideways, pulling his bundled quilt around him as he sprawled untidily against the pillows. Within minutes he was lightly snoring.

// Did Az just...? //

"Subconscious manipulation of your owner, Az? Hardly a desirable feature..."

"But a very useful one at times... Valor could block me if he really wanted... he's just too tired to say no." The demon shrugged, unrepentant. 

"I'm not a ghost, Az..."

"I don't know /what/ you are..."

"...Human... for now."

"But you /were/ something else..."

"Once, a long time ago..."

"If I could help you I would, Mason... but Valor is most insistent..."

"Help me convince him then... he believes in you..."

The demon frowned, uncertain of what to do. "Perhaps, we shall see what Steven's uncle says..."

*****

"I'm sorry Etienne, but I've never heard of a case where a person became possessed as a result of sleeping with someone... well, unless that someone is an incubus... but as darling as you are... an incubus you are not." The wry smile did nothing to set the teen at ease, Steven sat in the shadowy study fidgeting on the couch as his relative slouched forward on the desk, cigarette smoke curling upwards. Vincent looked idly between the trio of boys in the room, his nephew was a bundle of guilt and anxiety on the loveseat, but the other blonde at the door was radiating only quiet concern and general curiosity. The third boy, dark-skinned and shy, was keeping a low profile next to his lover. The New Yorker suppressed a smirk at how obvious the subtle signs could be, young love at its newest and best. 

"Just /look/ at him Uncle, you'll see... I'm not /crazy/..."

"No one is saying you are, child... I'm just trying to get a better understanding of the events.. now... you three were all there? You witnessed this...'change'...?"

Nelson cleared his throat, "Well Steve... erm Etienne and Val and Az were the initial crew, they only grabbed me later... Ant here... well he just found out this morning..."

The dark boy shot a disgruntled look at his partner. "You should've told me."

"You didn't miss anything, trust me. Mason wasn't being very forthcoming... or Ashley... or whatever he said his name was..."

// ...'Ashley'... // Vincent felt the hairs on his neck rise again at the sound of the name, a tingle of portent racing through his blood. // Impossible... he's gone... long gone... // With a deliberately calm gesture, he pulled his spectacles off and wiped them with his handkerchief. 

"So where are the young masters 'Val' and 'Az'...?"

Steven's murmur was almost at the edge of his advanced hearing. "Watching Mason. we were afraid he'd try to bolt..."

"He shows an inclination to embark immediately on this 'quest' then? 'China'... that's a good distance for a young man to cover..." The necromancer couldn't help the wild tangents his thoughts kept taking, the seemingly unrelated facts coalescing into impossible parallels, feeding hopes long dead and forgotten. "...'Ashley'... not a particularly common name for a boy, maybe more so here or in England than back in France though... an /old/ name..."

"He said that too... that he was old..."

"So you said.... a perfectly normal boy... who wakes up one night, and is suddenly someone else... remarkable..."

"I wouldn't say 'perfectly normal'... but yes..."

// A six hundred year old Frenchman... named Ashley... haunting a young guardian... impossible, simply... it's too good to be true... //

He accepted the cup of tea presented quietly at his elbow, Elsie noting his flustered state with only a raised eyebrow. "I would like to see this 'Mason'... and the other two as well... let's get the whole story, shall we?"

Nelson shrugged pulling his quiet lover out the door with him. Everything had a feeling as if it were pulling to a head with the arrival with the sleek metropolitan mage and his wife. The blonde shivered a little, eliciting a look from his partner. "I dunno, Ant. Something about that guy gives me the creeps... did you see the way he was hiding his aura?"

"A first level, I bet, and a strong one... necromancers usually are... he was probably disguising it as a favor to us... he seemed nice enough..."

"Yeah, whatever... say, what do you think of after we get the other guys in the study, you and me cut out... whatever is going to happen... I don't think we'll be needed... and damn if I want to be there..."

A warm hand on his arm caused him to look back. "It will be alright, Nel..."

"You're so sure...?"

"Strangely... yes, I am... I trust Mason..."

"But Mason isn't Mason anymore..."

"...Maybe so... but I think I'll trust him all the same. I owe him that much..."

The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the smaller boy's earnest expression, pulling him into a rough embrace. "Fair enough, I'll believe in him too... but from a distance if you don't mind... now let's get Val, and then get the hell out of the house for the afternoon... those woods beg to be skied in." He gave Anton a characteristic leer, "And if you get too cold, I'm sure I'll find a way to warm you up..."

"... Incorrigible..." The smaller mage scolded as he pushed up the stairs, but the hand holding his gave a gentle squeeze. Grinning like an idiot, Nelson tripped up the steps after him.

*****

The shadowy room left Valor with a momentary moment of blindness, blinking to adjust his eyes to the gloom. Even as he was getting his bearings in the room, he was on guard, alerted by the almost painful grip on his elbow. One minute he had been leading his companions into the study, the next minute found him forcibly hauled behind Az's protective shoulder, the normally silent familiar growling a low warning. The guardian's posture was equally defensive, both teens forming an impenetrable wall against whatever the bard was still unable to make out. Gradually his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, and peering over the double set of shoulders, he frowned at the normalcy of the room. Instead of monsters, or men with guns, there was nothing more exciting than Steven's slouched form on the couch, and another man, older, studying them from behind the desk. The blonde mage looked tired and upset, but the new arrival was staring at them, his expression one of complete amazement. Valor watched first the man then his friends for an anxious moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. With a strange laughing gasp, Mason suddenly relaxed, tension flowing from him in an almost visible wave. The demon refused to let down his guard, keeping his bard carefully shielded even as the trainee looked at them and shrugged, moving towards the desk. 

"Hi Vincent." It was a wonder that Valor's legs held out long enough to reach a chair. He carefully fumbled and sat as his knees threatened to give way, his eyes never leaving the odd tableau of Steven, the uncle, and Mason staring dumbly at each other.

// If I didn't know better... I'd swear Mason was trying not to laugh... // He shook his head, more confused than ever as the older mage finally blinked, blowing at his bangs in a childish display of incredulity. 

"You! I can't believe you're really /you/!?"

"The one and only..."

"But!" Vincent stood, sliding around the desk to grab a hold of the guardian's shoulders. "But /how/?! I mean, it's wonderful to see you again... but... /really/... /how/...?!"

"It's nice to see you too... funny, I didn't see this coming... not at all..."

"Foresight was never your strong point... you were a lousy oracle /then/... I doubt that you've improved any since..." 

"This coming from the man who I bet, to this day, /still/ can't stand the smell of pickles...?" The tall blonde gaped for a moment before growling something unintelligible, a blush rising high in his cheeks. Mason's smirk, so out of character, yet so relaxed, jarred Steven from his stunned silence. His plans for the aberrant ghost's disposal seeming to crumble to nothing.

"Wait! Uncle! You're supposed to exorcise the thing, not /reminisce/ with it! What about /Mason/?!" Val couldn't seem to find his voice, only nodding in agreement as his familiar loomed protectively at his side.

"Hush Etienne ..."

"Uncle?!"

"...'Uncle'...? You're /really/ his uncle? Have I missed something important? I didn't think that sort of thing was possible for you... bravo." The smirk was back, the dark-haired boy leaning lazily against the desk as the two relatives stared each other down. 

"Shut up, Ashley." The guardian merely waved off the rebuttal. 

Still feeling as though he was missing the entire conversation, Val tugged on his familiar's sleeve. "...What's going on...? Why can't Mr. LeRue be Steve's uncle...?"

"... Because he's a vampire..." The demon's tone was matter-of-fact, but the slight growl remained. The midnight eyes were riveted on the pair of bickering French blondes, waiting for the first threatening move.

"..Vampire...?!" If he felt faint before, now he was positively dizzy. "You mean he's going to... but isn't he married...?"

Catching the end of his question, Mason looked at him in surprise, tilting his head and concentrating for a minute. "That's /right/... Etienn¾ said there was a wife...? Vincent?!"

"Long story, Riskbreaker... Very long story... if you had stuck around the /last/ time, you'd know it already..."

"Sorry, I had a previous engagement." He shrugged again. "I'm here now... if it helps..."

"Yes... yes you are... /amazing/... I'm /seeing/... but I almost can't believe..."

"Please do... I don't much feel like being sent off to a magical mental ward..."

"Of course! My god but it's been a while... there's so much I want to know... so much you /need/ to know..." The tugging on his sleeve became too annoying to ignore, and he turned to face his nephew. "Not now, boy, this is important!"

"But Mason!"

"What about him?"

"Are you going to /fix/ him?!"

"... There's nothing the matter with him child... besides, he happens to be a good friend of mine." The vampire caught sight of the mage's stunned expression and paused, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. "This is sudden for me too... I never expected to see him again... not /here/, not /now/... Here, go down stairs now... all of you... I'll try and explain everything... but /later/..." Steven and Valor found themselves almost bodily lifted out of the room, the guardian watching their departure from his perch on the desk, saying nothing. The blonde turned to remove the last teen from the room, and froze as he took his first good look at the dark presence in the corner. "Damn..." Obviously torn between a healthy respect for his own safety, and his desire to have a private conversation with the reincarnated knight, he was uncertain what to do.

"...I don't trust you... /vampire/..."

"I can't say I like the look of you either, whatever-you-are..."

"Az."

"Is that a name, a race, or a designation?"

The demon frowned at the question, momentarily distracted. "...Yes."

"...'Yes' /what/? Or rather /which/?" The familiar only shrugged as Vincent stared in exasperation. Their staring contest was only broken by Ashley's polite cough.

"Leave him be, Az... he's ok."

"...vampire..."

"Yes, I know... but he's a friend. If you're quiet, you can stay... but I'd appreciate you using your discretion as to how much you tell Val..."

"Understood."

Obviously uncomfortable with the creature lurking in the corner, the vampire settled on the couch, unconsciously copying his nephew's comfortable slouch. They stared at one another for a silent moment, still digesting the bizarre scenario, when Vincent mustered the focus to speak. "This... is a rather nice house, a rental?"

"No, it belongs to Anton's parents... we're just crashing here for winter break..."

The man fidget for a quiet moment before his shock came out in a jumbled outburst. "I can't /believe/ you were the one Etienne was chasing after all semester! I mean... what's the likelihood of /that/...? You remembered /nothing/?!"

"Not until a day ago, no... There was no reason to... I almost woke up... twice? Three times? Mason occasionally got himself into some real tight scenarios and I was obliged to lend a hand. But usually he had less use for me than a prom queen has of a M-1 tank. I just sort of... slept." His eyes grew distant. "We're still... dual... but that's to be expected I suppose... he's had a whole 16 years to himself after all..."

"But your aura... you're not possessing him, surely..."

"No... he's me, but I am not him... a bit confusing really..."

"And you will eventually..."

"Become one, hopefully... it would be disturbing to stay like this forever..."

The vampire rubbed his forehead to forestall the headache. "That I can readily believe. But what of your... I mean /Mason's/ friends... what do I tell them?"

The guardian shrugged. "The truth, or some edited version of it..."

"They won't believe."

"That's their choice, frankly I have more important things to worry about now... Vincent... What happened...? I need to know." The adolescent face contained a life-time of worry.

"What /didn't/... Shit, Ashley, after you died... everything sort of went to pieces." Sinking lower into the soft cushions, the blonde gathered his thoughts, searching for memories over two centuries old. "You did it didn't you... when you died... it was odd really, I remember you telling me that I'd be immune... but I didn't realize what that meant until you actually /died/... do you know how /weird/ it was to stand still and watch the very fiber of existence being altered around me? It was terrifiying. It was as if... they all /forgot/... /completely/ forgot... and then people who were once connected... drifted apart... all integration was lost. The clans fought amongst themselves... the demons, the elves, it was like there was nothing keeping them here anymore... The Dark just sort of ceased to exist!" The vampire fluttered his hands, trying to speak coherently about the chaotic times. "/I/ could still... and a few others... but the humans... they just forgot... and then over the years... well..."

"It worked as it was supposed to then."

"I suppose so... but not without cost, Ashley. You've learned about the /wars/ then...? The past century has been a busy one..."

"I read about them in school... insanity."

"You can't feel the Dark anymore, can you... a victim of your own curse...?"

"It seems so."

"Believe me, it's a mercy, you'd have not slept so soundly if you could."

"Is it bad?"

"The Wellsprings are /gone/, Ash... the mages who tapped the Dark are all but extinct... things have become painfully unbalanced."

"Surely Müllencamp would regulate the flows properly to make up for the closures in this realm... When I issued the edict, I was hoping to forbid /humans/ from using the Dark... not /everybody/..."

"... I wouldn't know... I haven't heard anything from her... not since you left..."

"What say the priests? What says the Rood Bearer...?"

"Gone, Ashley. All gone..."

"Gone?! What do you mean, 'Gone.'?!" The teenager was on his feet, staring in shock at the prone figure. Vincent stared blankly at the ceiling, the weight of the news seeming to press heavily on his chest.

"I tried so hard... I stayed in touch with them for so long... but with the European colonial armies, the civil wars, the Japanese invasion, the communists... and the natural disasters... I've heard /nothing/... It's possible the temple doesn't exist anymore... I've had no luck in finding out..."

"You didn't /go/?!"

"I've done the best I could, Ashley! I had my own people to look after as well!" Unable to meet the man's eyes, the vampire's anger faded, leaving only guilt. "I'm only one man... I can only do so much..."

The Riskbreaker sighed, pushing the feelings of uselessness away for a later time. He would allow himself anger later, now he had to concentrate on repairing his mistakes. "I'm sorry, Vincent. It must have been hard for you, trying to do my job as well as your own..."

"I promised you I'd take care of things... if you weren't around... I did you know... You'll be pleased to know that the little company you left me has grown into a rather profitable and established affair. If you're ever in Germany, I'll introduce you to the current director, still an Orhenstiel... your friend Geoff's distant grandson I believe."

"Really? That's amazing..." It seemed strange to talk about his friends as if they were long-time-dead, stranger still to realize that they /were/ long-dead. It lead him to a darker series of questions. "So... of the old gang... who's left?"

Vincent winced. "Not many... May died... old age... her kids don't associate with vampires anymore... Do you remember Lucas and Deiter? The dhampiers? They're still around... work for me now..."

"They were barely kids..."

"Not anymore." The blonde laughed, "Still a pair though, their father died of course... sick bastard."

"How'd they take it?"

The vampire shrugged eloquently, "Who can say, they keep their own council... I have no idea who the current Rood Bearer is... or what he is even... or where... As for Clavo and your other 'spies'... who knows... demons don't talk to vampires anymore, and vice-versa... bad blood... We should have never gotten involved with the wars... but it was sort of hard not to with it in our backyards and all..."

"...what about Sydney?" The question hung in the air, Ashley's calm demeanor a well rehearsed fraud. Uncertain what to say, the necromancer said nothing, eyes fixed on plaster ceiling. "...Vincent...?"

"...I don't know, Ashley." 

Vincent waited for the inevitable shout, a repeat of the angry disbelief the knight had shown earlier, but it never came. The silence stretched on, becoming harder and harder to break. At last he sat up, looking at his companion in worry. Ashley, looking terrifying juvenile and awkward, was still perched on the edge of the elegant wooden desk, his head bowed against his chest. Even in the new body, it was easy to read his pain in every tensed muscle. The knight was completely inward focused, and for a frightening moment, the vampire wondered if he should've lied. With a shudder, the boy looked up, Ashley's eyes meeting his full of hollow sadness.

"I can't reach him... you know? Without the Rood... I... he can't hear me..."

"No one's been able to reach him... not for centuries... I... I spoke to Lord Chang the other day... and he mentioned that even /his/ people can't see into the Shadows anymore... it's as if it was never there..."

"He's dead then? I've come back for nothing...?"

"No... If he were dead... I'd have found him by now... It's not that hard to summon a specter you know... the Dead Lands are rarely so exciting that an old friend would refuse to talk to me... but when I call... there is no answer... No, he's either still within the shadows... or /here/... or..."

"... or he's lost... like I was... No, he would know better than to try to follow me..."

"Would he?"

"Damn it!" On his feet and pacing once more, the guardian was sorely tempted to break a vase, or a window, /something/. 

Vincent's worried voice distracted him before he could act on the impulse. "What will you do...?"

"The only thing I /can/ do! I have to get the Rood back..."

"It's current owner may not like that idea..."

"I'm aware of the possibility, Vince. But if the whelp is either there or here, I'll need it in order to find him. As I am now... I'll never manage it."

"China is a long way to go Ashley... even if you had the money..."

"I can work..."

"Not with this country's child labor laws, you can't... and what about your family?"

"Shit. And stop that, you're starting to sound like Valor..." The vampire smiled weakly as the teenager thought a minute then turned to give him a speculative look. "Hey, Vince... care to loan me some money? and a passport...?"

"I was afraid you'd ask that..."

*****

"You're leaving...? You're leaving me...?"

The bard had been silent all through the strained dinner, listening with a dazed expression as Vincent had offered a carefully edited version of 'what had happened'. Ashley frowned, uncertain when the quiet demon had slipped away from the study, he only noticed the familiar missing when he had stood to leave, looking to the corner and finding it empty. Judging by the musician's shaking hands when he had reluctantly joined the group in the den, he had already received a more detailed, and accurate report, but Valor said nothing. Ashley nodded in response to the vampire's inquiry, not really listening as he watched his friend stare mindlessly at the falling snow. The teen had completely ignored his food, even the hard headed Nelson had found it hard to keep the conversation flowing around the silent void on his left. Az was strangely absent.

// It's not like him... leaving Val unsupervised when he's this out of it...? It's not like him at all... //

Eventually dinner had ended, the people drifting away from the table in one's and two's. In the end, there were only the three of them, and then Steven abruptly stood, his chair scraping the floor harshly. The angry boy's words echoed painfully over and over in his thoughts. The Riskbreaker sighed. // 'I will /never/ forgive you... you lied to me... and I'll never forgive you...' // He leaned back in his chair, unable to stop the feeling of guilt. 

// Great going, Ashley... way to ruin a kid's life... He's probably going to be in therapy for years... Hell, we /all/ will... //

It was on that cheerfully depressing thought that Valor finally spoke, his shaky voiced question more painful than he had thought possible. He looked across the bare table at the visibly trembling bard.

"I can't believe you're leaving..." 

"...I'm sorry, Val..."

"When you go, there will be nothing..." It was with an over whelming feeling of d¾ja vu that Ashley staggered out of his chair and to the other side of the table, pulling the thinner boy into a fierce embrace. For a surreal moment he was in the Shadows, clinging to Sydney hard enough to leave bruises as the mage uttered almost the same words against his chest.

// But he's /not/ Sydney... // He closed his eyes. // But it hurts... //

"I'm /so/ sorry..."

"It's ok you know..." The obvious catch in the voice, a prelude to tears, negated the calm words. "I've been alone before... I was alone before I met you... I'll be fine... It's ok."

"No, it's not ok..." Ashley didn't release his grip, tucking the fragile-seeming head beneath his chin in a well-remembered gesture. "I promised I'd be there for you, and now I'm leaving... you should be /angry/ damn it... you have every right..."

"It was silly to think I could ever hold onto someone like you... I always knew you'd go... I just didn't... I didn't think it'd be so /soon/... You're going to go... and something's going to happen... and I'm never going to see you again... and it'll be my fault because I couldn't convince you to stay!"

"Shhhh... don't /say/ that... None of this is your fault, you idiot. I'm doing this because if I don't... I'll hate myself forever..."

"You really love him, don't you... He must be really special..."

"Who, Sydney?" Ashley started to laugh lightly, despite his sorrow. "He's... he's /something/ all right... pushy, and needy, and sharp-tongued enough to sharpen a sword on... He can be a real bitch sometimes..."

"No wonder you liked Steven..."

The guardian snorted softly, "Yeah, yeah I guess so... but yes, I love him... because... when he's not preening, or blustering, he's really...'sweet' I guess, although he'd kill me if he heard me say that; he can be /so/ like you... I wish you could meet him."

"If you find him... perhaps you could come see me... later. You could introduce me, if you want... I think I'd like that."

The arms around him gave a brief squeeze. "I'd like that too... We're friend's, right Val?"

Valor finally relented, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's chest in a desperate hug. "Friends. Yes." 

It was uncertain how long they stood, or when they finally retreated upstairs to get to sleep. Ashley found it odd that he could curl around the bard so guiltlessly as they watched the stars. There was nothing sexual in their embrace, simply seeking and finding comfort in each other's warmth, trying to hold on to one last instant of peace before saying goodbye. Val was still sniffing occasionally, keeping the last of his tears at bay. The knight couldn't help but wonder, as he comforted his friend, couldn't help but think of what his former lover was doing, if the blonde was alone. The thought of the mage's unhappy face only made him more determined to set out on his journey.

// He was crying... when I left... Sydney never cries... but he did... he cried because of me... /I/ did that... // He pulled the body in his arms closer, resting his face against the bard's hair. // He's going to be pissed as hell at me... //

"What are you thinking about, Maisie...? Is it ok if I still call you that...?" The voice, tired and hoarse, was a far cry from the usual mellow tones.

"I'm thinking... that I have a distressing knack for making the people I care about cry... I'll have to fix that..." The joke was lame, but received a snort of weak laughter. Ashley smiled sadly. "As for my name... call me whatever you please, I'll accept 'Maisie' from you... /only/ from you, but whatever..."

"Don't worry about me... I told you, I've been alone before... I'll be ok... It's just that... it'll be a little harder now... now that I know what it's like to have someone like you... but I'll be ok... you'll see..."

The Riskbreaker took him by the shoulders and shook him gently to stop the bard's rambling. "You won't be alone, silly, you have /Az/... He's always been ten times better at looking after you than I have been. Besides, he..." Ashley bit his tongue, realizing what he was about to say. The demon was still absent, likely nearby but not making himself known. 

// What does it matter if I tell him... It's not like Az knows what to say... and maybe this way... one of them will see what's right in front of their faces... // 

"Val... You're not alone... Az loves you... /really/ loves you... Or at least as much as is possible for him to..." Grey eyes stared at him in disbelief. "I'm serious! It's bloody obvious really, if you know what to look for..."

"That's insane... he's not human, Mason. He's just a-" 

"Then why did you try so hard to convince those dorks in the factory that he was just as 'alive' as you or me? Hmmm?" The guardian smiled, "Don't try to tell me that you don't care for the grumpy bastard, I know you do..."

"I do... but not like that..." Wiping his tears away, the bard seemed to consider the idea for the first time.

"I think he'd understand if you talked to him... I think you'd be surprised at how much he adores you..."

Valor grimaced. "It's not /real/ though... he can't help it... he /has/ to adore me... it's part of his programming..."

"I don't think so... maybe he was programmed to be obedient... /once/... but that doesn't seem to be a factor anymore... when you were abducted... it wasn't cold logic that made him come after you..." The memory of the demon's enraged aura was not an easy one to forget.

"You're crazy. Besides, it'd never work... I'm a... and he's..." 

Ashley shrugged, he had done all he could, this was something the bard would have to figure out on his own. "As you like... but he /does/ love you... and you're not alone..."

"Promise you'll come back... Mason, if things don't work out... if he's not there... if you can't find him... promise me you won't just give up...I wouldn't ask you to... if you were happy... or busy or anything. But if you ever..." The sentence trailed off into a yawn.

"If I survive this insanity... I'll find you again. You can play me all the new songs..." 

"Wherever I am... you'll always be welcome... no matter what."

"Thank you..." The words were the barest whisper, the body in his arms already fast asleep. No longer tired, Ashley watched the falling flakes long into the night, pondering the end of his 'normal' life. Later on he couldn't say if it was with a feeling of regret or anticipation that he watched the sun rise.

*****

The pale dawn light brought more than an end to the snow, it also revealed a dark form perched daintily on the rail at the foot of the bed. Ashley blinked blearily, rousing from a half-doze to glance over the pile of quilts. Az crouched, balancing with unnatural ease on the narrow strip of decorative wood, his hair long around his face, obscuring it in shadows. It was unnerving to be watched by the black-on-black eyes, more so to realize the demon had likely been there for some time.

"...Az...?" The Riskbreaker idly wondered if his quest was about to come to an immediate and ignominious end even before it had begun. The familiar didn't seem angry however, the face was its customary impassive mask as he studied the guardian. If anything, Az looked almost sad as he held a long finger to his lips.

"...Shhh, you'll wake him."

Ashley carefully disentangled himself from the bed, creeping silently from the room. The demon flowed after him, seeming as insubstantial as the shadows as he melted into the hallway and lead him down into the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, the knight fished a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with water. 

"He doesn't want you to go."

"He's letting me go."

"...I know."

"Take care of him, I know you will keep him out of trouble but... take care of him, make sure he isn't lonely..."

"You told him..."

"Yes..."

"...He's right you know... I can't..."

"I think you can..."

The demon growled, showing his anger for the first time. "No, I can't... he doesn't want /me/... he wants /you/... I can't be you..."

"A master of adaptation... and you can't emulate one solitary human?" Ashley laughed lightly, receiving a death glare for his efforts. "He doesn't need you to be /me/, Az. But it wouldn't hurt to be a bit more human maybe... would it be such a big stretch, to allow yourself to truly love him?"

"It's not my nature..."

"But it /is/ your nature to /change/... you've come so far... what does it matter if you take one step more...? For his sake?" 

"... to be human...?"

"Someone once told me... 'We do what we must, and it is an admirable thing to want to protect those you care for.' He needs you, Az... now more than ever, I wish I could help you. But in the end, this is something you'll have to learn on your own. Gods know your learning curve will probably be higher than mine was."

"...I understand." The demon nodded , pushing away from his slouch against the counter to face the guardian. "The vampire is waiting for you in the hall... you'd better go." With a feeling of destiny, Ashley clasped hands with the solemn changeling before moving softly out the door. Left standing alone in the tiled expanse of the empty kitchen, Az studied his hand for a moment, and coming to a decision, shifted upwards, returning to his solitary vigil. 

*****

Notes: Sorry this went no where, next time will be better, I promise... more Ashley torture for the whole family. We're going to smack him around like a naughty puppy... No really, next time, plenty of action, travel, new and exciting scenery... and Sydney... /hopefully/... we're almost there folks! So stay tuned! Next time! on 'Looking for the Lost' a.k.a. 'Memories of Home'. I'll make it worth your while, I promise... the tenth caller wins a free sentence. Or something.

--Lunar.


	6. Interlude: Liet's Story (part1)

Looking5 ****

Looking for the Lost: (part 5-1)

An AU Vagrant Story fic, language, violence, and adult situations. (Vocab. and explanation at the end, if you ever make it that far. :P)

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Liet stared moodily out at the rain soaked street from the dubious shelter of the garage. Water was sheeting down off the side of the drab buildings like miniature waterfalls, tinted gray by the random city filth. Fumbling for a cigarette, he sighed again, knowing eventually he'd have to work up the courage to go out into it and slog his way back to the too-luxurious apartment that he called home. He grimaced at the thought, slouching further into the shadows and idly checking his guns. The metal gleamed in the dim light, a well oiled-gloss against the otherwise dingy backdrop of broken cars and grimy mechanics. Out of all his possessions, they were at present in the best repair, his near-totaled car currently being inspected by several of the shop's workers.

"Oi… how long to get it patched up?"

"You've really done it /this/ time, Mr.Liet… The transmission's trashed! And then there's the windshield, and the passenger's window… and 44 bullet holes! Forty-four?! What ever were you thinking?"

"The mission was accomplished. That's all that matters."

"That's all well and good for you and the Boss… but what about /us/?! We're the ones who have to fix all your broken toys… destroy another car and the Boss won't be happy, no matter how many kills you make."

The hit-man ignored the old man's grumbling, chaining a new cigarette from the end of his previous one. // I wonder how long it'll take the cleaners to do my suit… // He grimaced at the rough estimate his brain provided. Bloodstains were a pain in the ass, better almost to get a whole new suit, a new shirt anyway.

"If the old man would give me a decent /driver/ for once, I wouldn't have to try and drive and shoot at the same time…"

"The way you go through drivers Mr. Liet, it's a wonder you get /anyone/…"

"It's the nature of the profession old man. If they were competent, they wouldn't be dead. Now, about the car? I have another mission tomorrow."

The senior mechanic snorted and waved to a particularly dirty form slouched in the corner. "You, shiao-zi. Come here." Liet stared in amazement at the pile of rags shifted, slowly lurching to its feet in a parody of humanity. The hunched man, for he was too tall to be called 'boy', moved as if in a dream, approaching the disdainful man and blinking stupidly.

"Shiao-zi, do you see car? You fix car, by /tomorrow/. You get food. Understand?" The simple statements were emphasized with wide pointing gestures, as if directing a trained monkey. Turning apologetically to the assassin, the old man smiled. "He's a simpleton, I grant you. But if anyone can get the car back on the road, it'll be him. Something of a mechanical marvel."

"And this is why you keep him half starved… and chained to the wall…?" Liet followed the length of chain that attached the idiot to a hook in the floor with a startled eye.

"I feed him!" The old man protested grumpily. "He got no complaints! I took him in out of loving kindness, found him in the street, I did. Here he gets a roof, and food… gets to be useful…" He lazily kicked the silent giant as the man returned with a toolbox. The man neither flinched nor spoke completely ignoring the conversation going on around him. Curious, the assassin watched as he retrieved a tool, and began working to remove the heavily dented side panels. "Who else would take in an idiot like him… and foreign-born too… look at his eyes, round like a cow…"

"I don't care if his eyes are /square/ just so long as I can drive that piece of shit tomorrow." Growling in irritation at the world in general, the dark man slinked out into the downpour, the water instantly soaking through the bloodstained jacket. 

********************

Ashley wiped his face with a slightly cleaner towel and leaned against the battered car with a feeling of tired satisfaction. The rattle of the ever-present chain around his ankle was a minor annoyance, bone-tired as he was, it was ignorable. He cast another furtive glance around the room, alone empty save for one other low-level worker, sleeping drunkenly in the corner. The dozing man was no risk. He stretched, standing at his full height for the first time in days as he worked the kinks out of his shoulders. The rain continued to beat down, masking the pre-dawn light in a gray haze as he tested the seal on the new windshield. The car wasn't 'pretty' nor would it ever be without some serious bodywork, but the bullet holes had been patched, the engine repaired, and the windows replaced. It now looked no worse than any of the other cars seen parked on the street outside, battered, abused, but perfectly usable. Ashley frowned slightly as he remembered the older men pulling the corpse out of the car, the vehicle's driver had taken two shots to the chest.

// Poor bastard should've been wearing a vest… or learned to duck… But then it seems that Liet is something of a Jonas in that sense. Three partners dead in a year…? One in the last three months. // He frowned, recounting the days in his head since his arrival in Shanghai. The port city's welcome had been painful and abrupt, although in hindsight he should have known better than to expect otherwise.

// Of course the place looks different... two centuries have passed, an occupational army, and a civil war... what did you honestly expect? To see a familiar face? // Even the language had shifted slightly, still understandable after the long years of absence, but he chose to hide his knowledge. To be mute was strange, to speak with the patterns of the ancestors would have proved remarkable. Ashley had no desire to be remarkable. His goal had been to slip silently through the chaotic countryside, making his way across country to his final goal. So far however, he had had little luck escaping the city. 

Without the constant flow of Dark to guide and shield him, he was rapidly forced to accept the fact that his /human/ strengths were sorely lacking. Someone had politely helped themselves to his bag within a day of wandering wide-eyed through the city. Their presence had been the merest flickers, there and gone before he could fully turn around. The bag was of no real loss, the clothing in it was replaceable, the wallet and passport were however, another story. A man with neither money or identity, he had wandered the litter strewn streets of Shanghai's harbor neighborhoods, watching for opportunity in the patient way that only someone who had tasted immortality could. His purpose was singular. He would travel west, somehow.

// Now look at me... chained like a dog... The Romans were right... even the greatest of societies is only three meals away from anarchy. And I... who years ago would have scoffed at being any man's willing pawn... found myself begging for food in a gutter. Sweet irony. Sydney would laugh, were he here... // The thought, painful as it was, brought a measure of comfort. Ashley stared out at the monsoon's rains, exhaustion almost getting the better of him, and /remembered/. The marrow in his bones seeming to echo with the desire to /move/ to break the weak chain, to leave the lazy mechanics, the filthy city, and walk down to the great river that twisted its way through the metropolis' bowels. Boats went up-river day and night, surely it would be easy to find a place to hide. His stomach growled irritably, his muscles trembled with the effort to stay awake, and the Riskbreaker laughed at his own weakness. No longer was he the stuff heros were forged of, seventeen, half starved and still growing, there was no way he would be able to do as his memories beckoned. He had fallen into this trap with his eyes open, and now could do nothing but wait, and regain his strength.

// I hate waiting. //

********************

The car looked bad, there was no way around that, but when the key was turned, the engine purred pleasantly. Liet raised an eyebrow in disbelief as the old shop-supervisor chuckled.

"I don't believe it... it's running..."

"I told you the shiao-zi would do it... Now, bring it back next week and we'll replace the bent bits with new ones... but other than that...I don't want to see you /or/ this car back in my shop for at least a month... got it?"

"Yeah yeah..."

"And next time, get rid of your own bodies! I'm not the Cleaners you know! They're across town!"

"Yeah yeah..." Liet tore his eyes away from the battered car to peer into the murky corner of the shop. The chained-man lay in a tidy heap, dead to the world. "He really worked all night to finish this?"

"Of course! He's a simpleton... he does as he's told."

The assassin grimaced at the causal cruelty in the statement. What remained of his human decency warred for a silent moment with his more vocal self-serving survivalism, and surprisingly, it won. "... See that he gets fed then, he did a good job."

"I'll remind someone to do it later."

"You'll do it now." His hard-eyed stare had become honed to razor sharpness over the years, with every kill it grew a little colder. The mechanic flinched back, cursing mildly.

"Fine fine... what have you to get so concerned about... go do your work and leave me to mine..." Waving to another man, lazing about, he barked a curt order. "You, Hou, see that the boy gets fed today."

Shaking his head in wonder, Liet slid into the car, slowly crawling out of the stuffy workshop and onto the drenched street. The old man was right. He had a job to do. Even as he slid through the dark alleys, and stalked his target, he couldn't help but be haunted by the sad bundle of rags back in the garage. Lining up his shot carefully, he ignored the crowded gambling den with its greasy politicians, focusing on making a clean kill. A woman screamed, several glasses shattered, and a fat man fell face first across the pool table as the urbane assassin calmly tucked away his gun and jogged along his escape route. He only paused once, allowing a mob of angry bodyguards to pour past him as he lounged by a public phone, before slinking back to his abused vehicle and driving home.

// ... 'Home'... heh a home to devils maybe... // Clenching his hands to make them stop shaking with post-mission nerves, he concentrated on driving, guiding the car into the nondescript parking garage attached to a plate glass office building. The security guard nodded as he drove past. // So why don't I leave...? I'm the best he has... it's not like I can't just... walk away. I'll kill whoever he sends. // Liet, it was whispered, had blood of ice. There was nothing that could keep him from his prey. His gun arm was always rock steady. // Maybe I've begun to like it... the fame...? The fear...? To think I took this job because I thought I had fallen as far as I could go... /murderer/... I was already a marked man... stained... I thought it couldn't get worse. // Brushing invisible dust from his coat, he stepped into the elevator, sliding the decorative metal grate closed. 

// How wrong I was... //

The elevator ascended to the top floor of the building, to the man sitting behind the shadowy desk who was awaiting his report.

********************

It was an odd thing, he decided, as he pulled off his jacket and hung it carefully. It was an odd thing to return home from work, to untie his shoes, to shake our his umbrella, to reach into his fridge for a beer. It was an odd thing to pretend that he came home from work everyday and was suddenly just like other /ordinary/ men coming home from /ordinary/ jobs. Liet collapsed gracelessly in front of the small radio, turning it on for a brief moment to flick through the various channels of communist nonsense before shutting it off in disgust. Maybe in the distant countryside, the revolution was seen as a godsend, but he had never spent any time in the farming villages, and in the city Mao's image was gloomy, ever present figure, promising an end to the joyful capitalism of years past. These days, it seemed that crime was the only profitable industry left in China. He stared at the thin gold band on his finger, the symbol of the Triad, his syndicate, pressed into the soft metal. The rain hit the windows of his apartment, an unrelenting, claustrophobic sound.

// Funny... I can't even remember a time when I was 'ordinary'... I must have been once... in the beginning...? No one /starts/ life a criminal... // 

He finished his beer, still musing. // No one starts life a chained and beaten dog either. // 

Uncertain why, he found himself changing back into his suit and heading out the door, back into the rainy evening. It was with a bemused smile that half-an-hour later he found himself standing in the dingy garage, large paper bag in hand. The majority of the workers had already gone, leaving for their random families, mistresses, bars or bordellos for the night. In the little office, someone was happily snoring beneath a wrinkled newspaper. Moving silently, as was his custom, he slowly approached the darkest corner of the room, and was surprised to find himself watched. The silent street-boy was wide awake, the grimy face unreadable.

"Hey..." It felt strange to crouch in front of the simpleton, speaking softly as if trying to coax a stray dog. Liet idly wondered if scrawny foreigner would attack him as a stray would, afraid of any helping hand. The boy made no move however, and if he felt fear, he concealed it well. "Hey... remember me? You fixed my car last night..." Brown eyes blinked, uncomprehending.

The assassin sighed, over turning an empty crate and using it as a stool. "Can you even understand me?"

For a long moment, he felt himself observed, and in the shadowy eyes there was a spark. No longer dull and lifeless, the mute watched him closely, and after a long moment's judgement, nodded slightly, a definite 'yes'. Pleased, the gun-man let out a soft breath of laughter.

"You're no idiot, are you... mute maybe... but definitely not a fool. Here, did these bastards ever feed you today?" Again there was the careful moment's consideration, but this time the response was quicker, a negative jerk of the chin and a long-suffering grimace.

"I thought as much, barbarians... they'd treat a dog better. Food is getting scarce these days... even here... all this fighting has been bad for the farmers... still a promise is a promise. And you earned this more than those lazy mules ever earned theirs..." Liet carefully placed the bag in front of the ragged youth, propping his elbows on his knees. The boy stared at him a long moment, then at the package, almost as if not believing his luck. With hesitant hands, he peered inside, sniffing cautiously at the variety of tasty smells wafting up from the containers.

"Well go on... you're hungry aren't you? I didn't know what you'd eat, so I got a bit of everything... Beef with peppers, fried rice... chicken with sprouts... sticky rice... There should be some tea in there well..." He watched in amazement as the paper bag was carefully torn apart, forming a clean surface on which to spread out the feast. Liet hadn't known what to expect, but the fumbling delight with which the set of disposable chopsticks was grasped came a surprise. The starving boy gripped the utensil with practiced skill, happily shoveling several mouthfuls of steaming rice into his mouth. 

"So civilized? What a funny boy you are..." For a while, he was content to watch his silent companion eat, feeling a small glow inside that he was somehow the cause for this brief moment of joy. Eventually even his stomach began to complain, reminding him that beer alone did not make for a filling meal. It was with curious delight that he watched his odd companion gently push a container of food his direction. The flavor of spiced beef a mouth watering proposition. With a grin he carefully placed it back in front of the man, claiming the small container of stir-fried vegetables instead.

"You need that more than me... when was the last time you ate beef?" Shrugging, the foreigner returned to emptying out the carton of chicken. Liet produced a set of chopsticks and poked at his food. "It's not as if I don't eat well enough. There's little else for me to spend my money on... aside from bullets... and clothing. So eat, ok?"

For all the food he brought, it took a startlingly short time for it to vanish, the empty boxes stacked neatly and refolded in the remains of the bag. Even with the feast done, the dark gun-man had no real urge to move, feeling content with himself and the world as he sat on the crate and watched the rain fall by the light of the street lamps. "Do you know about Confucius, boy? He was a great scholar... and ancient sage... He lived here years and years ago... He's gone out of fashion lately, but in the old days... people would read his books, and they'd learn what was right, and what was wrong. He would say... that my helping you today is because I must do penance for those I hurt... But if you ask me, that's ridiculous, I hurt /far/ more people then I help in this life... I'm nothing but a devil, one who hunts men for sport. But maybe, some day in the future, I will profit from this one good deed... or maybe... maybe for once I can sleep, and not dream of blood. What do you think?"

The man merely shrugged, watching him once more with the curious eyes. Liet smiled, "Well, your conversation leaves a bit to be desired... but still, it was fun. Stay safe, boy. I'll see you again when the old badger gets the parts for my car." Gathering up the small bundle of trash, the gun-man stood and slipped back into the rainy night. He completely missed Ashley's snort of amusement. The Riskbreaker pulled his worn blanket closer, shelter against the damp nighttime chill.

********************

Whether by good karma, or by simple law of averages, Liet found the next two weeks to be unbearably quiet. The politicians were all quietly taking their bribes, the rival crime-lords were suitably cowed, and he, the hatchet-man, found himself at loose ends. Some days, he lay idly on the lumpy bed of his apartment, staring blankly at the ceiling, doing nothing. It was a dangerous occupation, doing nothing. It allowed him free reign to think, to remember. He hated thinking, it only reminded him how deep flawed he was. The gunman rolled off the bed and looked at the clock, now was a good a time as ever. Blinking against a patch of rare mid-afternoon sunlight, he navigated the confused jumble of streets.

Liet had stopped by the mechanic's den earlier in the week, but had been unable to see his 'mo-sheng ren', or 'stranger' as he had come to call the man, if only in his thoughts. The Shop-boss' sneered 'shiao-zi' grated him for some reason. The man was unnaturally quiet, but there was no simplicity shining in his eyes, and he obviously was no mere 'boy'. No matter what his mental status, he had been hips-deep under a car when the gunman dropped of his battered vehicle, and it would have looked exceptionally odd to have waited around to see him. The older men at the shop already kicked the silent man enough, no need to make them feel their simpleton was his favorite. It would probably only make things worse.

// Besides... it's out of character for /you/ too... What are you thinking... worrying about a piece of stray gutter like that... what is so special about that man?! // The question had been plaguing him for weeks, his mind turning over and over on the image of the chained-man devouring the cheap take-out food as if it was a king's banquet. Something in his eyes, in the tilt of his head, the slump of the shoulders almost screamed its importance to him... kinship. It was disturbing to think that a prestigious assassin, and a mute beggar would have anything in common, but the feeling was unmistakable.

Liet turned the final corner, the dreaded shop already in sight. He blinked in amusement to see his car sitting ready on the curb, looking almost like new. The object of his musing was for once out of the garage's grimy interior, slowly polishing the new black fender to a high-gloss. Suppressing a smile, and telling himself firmly to not act too friendly, the gun-man strolled over to investigate.

"Well well... it seems you are indeed a 'miraculous boy'... I can hardly believe you didn't secretly swap cars when I wasn't around." He leaned irreverently against the newly-polished surface and watched as the younger man surreptitiously check on his distant supervisor before looking him in the eye with a half smile. It was as if they were sharing in some private joke. Liet had not spoken loud enough to catch the old man's attention. The chief mechanic had been shouting at another of his workers, but as he turned to check his small empire, he caught sight of him and limped over.

"Oi oi... it's no use talking to that piece of shit as if he was a person... waste of time... like trying to play checkers with a dog! But as you can see... your car is done, and ahead of schedule too... you remember that, you hear? I've done you a /favor/, Master Killer. Don't you forget that..."

"I doubt my type of currency will ever be of any use to you, old man... I doubt the Boss even knows enough about you to ask me to ever eliminate you... and anyone /you/ would have a vendetta against... isn't worth my time. Better that you stick with the pay you already receive..."

"Arrogant bastard..." The mumble was low but audible.

"What was that?" The gun-man was all artificial smiles as he watched the old mechanic suddenly go gray and mutter an excuse. Arrogant or not, he was still not a man to irritate lightly.

"Would Mr. Liet like to sign the work-order on his car then?" The snidely polite man jerked his chin towards the inner office, hoping to be rid of his unnerving customer as soon as possible. The assassin simply smirked as he ducked into the shadows. Angry at being chastised in his own shop, the mechanic prodded the chained-man with an ungentle toe. "Finish polishing, shiao-zi, I have other work for you today." 

********************

Liet was sorely tempted to find some fault with the workmanship on his vehicle as he read through the long list of repairs, but then realized that any defects would likely be blamed on his unlikely friend, and so held his tongue. The cost of the repair however was safer ground, and he and the old man began to argue with polite malice. He had just managed to work the cost of re-tuning the engine down out of the stratosphere, when they were both interrupted mid-sentence by a woman's scream, and the frantic squealing of breaks. The assassin was leaping over the desk, weapon at the ready, before the shop-boss had time to turn around. The scene that he discovered, however, proved that there was little need. There had been no attack, rather, the excitement was to be found on the street outside. 

A car had taken the turn onto the narrow street much too fast, the driver loosing control and sending the vehicle veering wildly. It was now sitting idle in the middle of the street, its twisted tire tracks proving it had fish-tailed wildly before coming to rest. The driver, instead of being thrown by his near brush with collision was leaning out the window swearing wildly at a crouched form in the street nearby. Somewhere on the periphery of Liet's vision, a woman continued to shriek, but he ignored her. 

// That imbecile hit someone? // 

The crouched form moved however, and slowly standing, it became recognizable. The mute from the shop stood slowly, as if injured.

"Hey! You ok?" It was a stupid thing to say, an uncharacteristic, /caring/ thing to say. But he didn't notice, already moving to assist the grimy man. The reason for the hunched posture was revealed as he drew closer, tucked carefully against the broad chest was a wide-eyed child. Liet blinked in surprise, the reason for the woman's screaming becoming clear. "You..." He looked at the dark beggar, but found himself ignored. The man was engrossed with the child's curious stare. At length, the rest of the idle crowd realized what had happened, and seeming embarrassed, the silent man set the boy on his feet, and gave him a gentle shove in his mother's direction.

"Go on... Your mother is waiting." Assassin and child alike were startled out of their paralysis at the soft whisper, and saying nothing, the boy scurried back over to his delighted parent, clinging to her skirt. The mute, who was no mute, quietly moved past Liet, and picking up his towel, continued polishing the car. 

"You..." The gun-man found himself transfixed, standing like an idiot on the sidewalk while the world painfully reasserted itself. He was not the only one who wanted answers. The Shop-boss had missed most of the remarkable events, but had grasped what was important to him. In his stunned hand was the end of a broken length of thick chain. The last link was horribly bent and twisted, as if some massive and sudden force had ripped it out of its natural shape. With morbid interest, Liet looked down at the dutifully working man, seeing a similarly mangled, /shorter/ section of chain still linked to the cuff on his ankle. The marvel had not been accomplished without pain from the look of it, tiny trails of blood running down from where the metal had bit into the man's skin.

"Impossible." It was the old man who spoke first, but his sentiment was echoed around the garage. 

The assassin felt only silent wonder, but the other men saw the situation in a different light, their faces darkening with fear, anger, and then greed. He could almost see the wheels turning in the old man's head, realizing that his 'simpleton' could've broken his chain at any time. They had known he was strong, but had never seen such a clear demonstration of it. It was as if they had found what they thought was a dog, and had beaten it as a dog, and then discovered it was in fact a dragon, one perfectly capable of crushing them for their misdeeds. 

It took two tries for the old man to clear his throat enough to find his voice. With a jerky wave, he pointed to two of his assistants, speaking softly as if to not draw attention to himself. "Go... and find another length of chain... stronger this time..."

Liet stared at him in disbelief, not missing the way the man next to him suddenly tensed, placing the rag slowly on the ground, but not rising from his crouch. His face was obscured by the side of the vehicle. A cloud obscured the sun, the monsoon rains threatening to fall again.

// The pressure is dropping... that's why my scalp tingles... only air pressure... only the rain... // The reasonable explanation seemed pathetically insufficient.

He felt the tension in the silent room, and without meaning to, moved to divert what ever was about to happen, the words coming almost of their own will. "I'm taking him."

The effect was satisfyingly abrupt, a boulder dropped into a meditation pond. He found himself the focus of every eye in the room, and knowing it, deliberately lounged against the side of his car, idly playing with his gun.

"WHAT?!" 

"I said, I'm taking him... he amuses me." Liet looked down to meet the beggar's startled stare, he could not soften his voice, but hoped his eyes could express his true intent. "Nan-jin, can you drive?" 

// I can't watch them chain you again... //

A single solemn nod cemented his plan in place. "Get in the car." He brought the gun up, pinning the angry workers in place with a stare that would give a demon chills. "Thank you for your time, and your efforts, gentlemen. I will see that you are rewarded handsomely for the repairs... and I will pay you compensation for the loss of the boy."

"You can't take him! He's /mine/! I /found/ him!!"

"And now I am buying him from you, I think one hundred dollars is more than generous... especially since you got him for nothing..."

"He could make ten times that in the ring!" The old man was practically livid.

"That's if you could get him to fight... I think you might find that a challenge, but no. My offer stands, one hundred dollars for the boy, or I kill you now, and take him anyway..." Liet smiled.

There was no way to really bargain with an offer like that, and the mechanics knew it. Several of the men in the back swore loudly, but the assassin only smiled wider. "...one hundred dollars... /American/ mind you... and I'll get you for this, you weasel... "

"One hundred... and I highly doubt it. I have just bought my own mechanic after all... I won't be needing your services again." Watching the old man's expression collapse almost made up for all the irritations of the past week, and whistling merrily, he settled in the passenger's seat. "Make a left at the corner." The car came to life with a soft purr, and glided down the street.

It wasn't until the car was parked safely in the garage, and Liet and his silent shadow arrived at his door, that it registered, what he had just done. Standing in the small living-room, with the first guest his apartment had ever had, he felt suddenly exposed, flustered. Dredging up long lost social manners, he fought to stay in control of the situation. 

"Well... we'd better get you cleaned up then, hadn't we... I trust you can tend to yourself?" He didn't want to contemplate what he would do if the answer was no. Thankfully there was another affirmative nod, and then hesitation.

"What's wrong? And I know you can speak, so please do so... guessing games annoy me."

"...clothing?" The soft voice, was still unsettling, each word chosen with care. "...clean clothing?"

The assassin winced, never having considered such a basic need. Clothing was not the only thing his new liability would need in short order, his logical mind already drawing up a long list of items. "Nothing that will fit /you/ I think... not at the moment anyway..." He looked around the apartment, gathering his thoughts. "Here... you just worry about getting clean... I'll go out and try to scrounge up a few things. The bathroom is through there... and throw out those rags, I don't want them stinking up the place."

Moving just slowly enough that it was a strategic with drawl, and not full-fledged flight, Liet locked the door behind him and jogged down the stairs. // Well... if he is naked... at least he can't bolt while my back is turned... // The thought almost made him laugh, and that scared him even more than the idea of having a stranger in his tiny sanctuary. // What am I doing?! This is insane... // 

For all his internal protests he was already moving through the secondhand shops, pulling out the largest shirts he could find. // First clothing, then food... /then/ I worry about the rest... damn but that boy is going to get me into a lot of trouble... Damnit /not/ 'boy'... he probably has a name... Gods, I don't even know his /name/?! Ahhh! //

He staggered back to his apartment, dizzy from the unaccustomed interaction with the crowds of people, and weighed down by two large bags as he climbed the stairs. It was with a feeling of fatalism that he juggled for his keys, and stumbled through the door, dropping his purchases unceremoniously on the table. 

// He's most likely gone, darted out the fire-escape with my father's clock, the radio, and the loose change from the drawer by my bed... this was a stupid idea and I- // 

A damply tousled head peered around the bathroom door, watching him with mild curiosity before moving closer. Now clean, the man seemed, if possible, even larger, tall in a way that only a foreigner could be. The towel around his waist was more than enough for modesty, but Liet still found himself blushing, his too-logical mind providing him with the undesired comparison. He was by no means lazy or weak, but could feel nothing but inconsequential when faced with the almost perfect body. Bruised, and half starved, the now brown-haired man was still like something out of a magazine.

// Why did I not realize he was so young...? He can't be more than 18... he seemed so much older... with the dirt... //

Angry at his nervousness, he grabbed for the closest bag and thrust it abruptly at his guest. "Here, clothes. They're the largest I could find so they'd better fit." The bag was accepted quietly, the teen retreating back to the bathroom with a gentle rattle of chain on tile.

// Damnit... I forgot the crowbar... // Darting back out to his car provided valuable time to settle his nerves, and when he returned, he felt almost collected enough to face the stranger again. The smell of hot food greeted his return, the silent man padding softly around the small kitchen laying out the contents of the second bag and various utensils. For an odd moment, the assassin was tempted to announce his return, like a workman back from the job. He caught himself, frowning at how easily the long forgotten phrase almost worked its way to his lips. It had been a long time since he had had a family, and this was only temporary.

"It seems to fit alright." The shirt and pants had probably come originally from England, purged from some rich Westerner's wardrobe and left to rot in one of the hundreds of shops of Shanghai's market district. The black fabric was worn to gray at the knees, but was clean, giving his companion an almost professional appearance. The hair was still an unruly mass. The gunman sighed, there were knots that would likely have to be cut out, but the boy needed a haircut anyway. "After dinner... I'll see what we can do with that... and that..." He pointed first at the chain, then at the hair.

"... thank you."

Liet waved off the quiet gratitude, settling himself in front of his rice with determination. "Hush now... hurry up and eat." After a moment's hesitation, the youth retrieved his chopsticks and followed suit.

It took three tries with the hammer and crowbar to get the metal to split properly. The teen made not a sound through the painful process, not even when the assassin slipped, the crowbar scratching his foot. He was equally calm while Liet attempted to make sense of his chaotic hair, enduring the tugs and jerks with unending patience. His only commentary through the whole procedure was not to complain, rather to make a request. The assassin had trimmed the hair at his neck, and was about to start on the rest, gathering up a lock in front of the quiet boy's ear in order to trim it short, when he was stopped. 

"Leave that, if you don't mind...leave it long in front..."

"How will you see to drive with all that hair in your eyes...?"

"Trim the rest short, but leave these..." He gathered the hair in front of his ears into two short tails, protecting it from the scissors as the gun-man trimmed the rest. Liet was doubtful at first, but sitting back to assess his efforts, he was pleasantly surprised. The long strips, when raked back by the teen's fingers, seemed content to stay out of the way seeming to almost float if he moved his head too quickly.

"You look like you have little horns..." The hit-man couldn't help but laugh as the teen smoothed his hair down self-consciously. "What a strange fellow you are." The comment lead him back to the thought that had struck him earlier. "Do you have a name...? It's funny ... this is the second time I've fed you... and I still don't know what to call you..."

"... name...?" For a minute, Ashley was stunned, the events of the past 24 hours so unexpected as to be almost dream-like. "I... do you know... you're the first person to ask me that in ... god, months...?"

"You're American... or British or something, aren't you? If you were in trouble, why didn't you go to your embassy...? They'd take care of you... unless you're a criminal..."

"If I went to them... they'd send me home... No, there's something I have to do here first..." He curled his knees under him, looking both tired and determined. "You've been very kind to me, Liet... you didn't have to be, but you were... it seems I am in your debt. For what it's worth, my name is Ashley."

The gunman shrugged, sounding out the odd name. "Ash-Li?"

The guardian grinned. "Close enough."

********************

The car cornered beautifully. It was supposed to, Ashley has put enough work into the suspension. The narrow city streets were a getaway driver's dream, the heavy weather making the following police car's time doubly difficult. Judging the road's slickness, and the tire's quality he adjusted his speed and took a sudden left, throwing his partner into the passenger-side door. The assassin pushed himself back into place, shooting him a bewildered look. The guardian smiled grimly.

"I told you to use the seatbelt."

"Where the hell did you learn to drive like this ?!"

"Remind me sometime to tell you about this guy I know named Martin... if you think /this/ is driving... you'd have /loved/ him..."

"...great..." Liet clung to the door handle as the car expertly fish-tailed around another turn, finally loosing its pursuit and disappearing into the night. 

The assassin took a few minutes longer than necessary in the shower, settling his nerves after the long evening. The attack had gone off flawlessly, the target had be dispatched easily, but he had been stalled unexpectedly in his departure by a flock of giggling streetwalkers, and thus was spotted by a group of irate police-for-hire. The thugs had proven most persistent. He had doubted his ability to make it to the parked car when it had sprung away from the curb, meeting him half way. He did not consider himself a cowardly man, but the near dizzying rush of lights and high speed curves left him feeling hopelessly lost and covered in sweat. 

They had spent the previous day circling the main neighborhoods of the city, the assassin wanting to familiarize his new driver with the ins and outs of the confusing labyrinth. It had been a mere precaution, but the quiet man seemed to have absorbed all of that and more, diving fearlessly into the 'old-city' by the docks before coaxing them back onto the highways and safely home again.

// That was... do all Americans drive like that?! // 

He splashed his face in the sink before leaving the bathroom, letting the younger man take his turn. Ashley had spent over a week quietly making himself part of their tiny household, his presence in the apartment now familiar. Yawning hugely, he showed no sign of nerves, going through his nightly rituals slowly. Liet used the excuse of a book to stay up, secretly watching his quiet partner curl up on the spare sleeping mat. The teen wasn't secretive, that wasn't exactly the right word. But there was a feeling about him, the assassin did not doubt that there was much the westerner would not, /could not/ tell him. He was a mystery.

// Every day I wake up and I admit, I'm a little startled to discover he's still here... I keep expecting him to bolt... or to wake up and discover that he never was, that I've been hallucinating... There's something... something very strange about him. He's like a boy from a legend with a sword and a quest. Well, he's got the sword, anyway. I half expect a dragon to show up next... //

The assassin knew about magic, he had even seen it once or twice, but had luckily never come up against it yet in his career. He /knew/ about it, and to a certain extent, believed in it, and as far as he could see that was enough for anybody. Ashley however, smelled of magic. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did, and it scared him; just a little. His eyes flickered across his dim apartment to the slim black case resting unobtrusively against the wall, he had seen the interior only once. 

The normally mild-mannered teen had been most insistent that they go to a rundown warehouse, disappearing into the dusty rafters to retrieve the slim box from a secret hiding place. Irritated at the delay, and in an already foul mood from having to attend a council meeting, Liet had stubbornly put his foot down upon returning home, demanding to know what he was sheltering. The case when opened, contained a treasure that could have easily bought Ashley's way out of poverty, had he been willing to sell. A pair of fine swords, obviously ancient, were nestled in the box protected by a pair of well worn sheathes. The shining steel had a decidedly deadly edge. Only one had been displayed, lifted reverently from the case and released from its shell to flicker in the dim apartment. It was all too quickly tucked away and the teen never mentioned them again.

// It had a name too... something French... no matter, I can't remember it... // With a sigh, he turned off the small reading light, and prepared himself for sleep.

********************

// I really hate waiting... //

He had just finished his morning exercises when the assassin had returned from work, his face tight with annoyance. The black envelope in his hand offered silent explanation.

"Busy week..." The guardian made no further comment, waiting for the man to settle himself. The assassin was already spreading the photos out on the table, memorizing faces and names. Liet took his job seriously, it was one of the reasons the guardian felt strangely find of the older man. 

// Just because you don't like what you do... doesn't mean you do a crappy job... you do what you have to, then you get on with life... except Liet hasn't figured that bit out yet... //

Ashley studied the salt-and-pepper hair of the gunman, pondering just how long the man had quietly, flawlessly carried out his unpleasant work. Had he not cared, or had he enjoyed it, it would have been easy to walk out and forget about him. The assassin was never so shallow however, and despite his own need to move, to continue his journey, he found himself staying, trying to repay the debt he owed the man.

// I don't have time for this, but what do I do? It is unlikely that, after leaving, I'll ever get to see him again... // It was with an odd sense of foreboding that he looked down at the black and white photos. There would be a long night ahead. While Liet checked his guns, the dark-haired teen quietly reached into his case, and pulled out the iron sheathed sword, leaving the black-hilted one resting undisturbed in its case. It was unlikely he would come across anything that /that/ sword would be needed for. The long object was tucked discretely in the backseat of the car as he guided the vehicle deftly along the crowded streets.

He caught the thin man as he was about to slip out of the car, "Be more careful this time, Ok?" Liet grinned, but his heart wasn't in it. 

"I'll be back in half an hour." 

Turning off the engine, Ashley hooked an arm behind him, reclaiming his weapon. He drew the blade free, only an inch, just enough to let the metal catch the dim overcast light. "It's just you and me... just like old times, hmm?" The blade clicked shut, and he leaned it against his shoulder. The old habit provided an odd sort of comfort as he waited, listening to his watch counting off the seconds. 

// Of course... it makes sense... someone as mixed up with 'death' as he is... he's probably steeped in the Dark, and doesn't even know it... calls it 'luck', 'experience', 'instinct'... Damn, but I can almost taste it... //

He looked up from his meditations at the sound of two black cars pulling up in front of the abandoned building. Men piled out of the vehicles, moving at a business-like pace for the doors. // What's this? This isn't part of the plan... // Grumbling under his breath, he slipped silently from the car, using the shadows to mask his approach to the side of the building, and the half-open window of Liet's escape route. The sword was a steady weight in his hand.

Something had very obviously gone wrong, he knew it as soon as he slid into the dark industrial building. There was the sparse gunfire, muffled outside by the sound of street traffic. Heavy footfalls echoed on the old wood-plank floors. Ashley grinned, finding it easy to get their positions. He stalked down the hallways of the 'office' area, his silent footsteps stirring up tiny clouds of dust. A man spun around the corner almost plowing into him in his haste, and pulled back in amazement. Before a shout could be uttered, the guardian moved, bringing his weapon up with casual force to first disarm then incapacitate the searcher. The large man slumped to the grown with a stunned gurgle.

"Have a nice nap..." Stooping to retrieve and pocket the gun, the dark-haired teen continued forward, clearing a path of escape for his missing friend. // Come on Liet... you have to be here somewhere... // He began to slowly, methodically work his way into the upper levels.

Dragging an unconscious body into a side-office, he paused, listening carefully to the renewed shouting. It was closer than before. Glancing out the window he rolled his eyes, seeing three more cars pull up in front of the building. 

// This is getting out of hand... //

The end of the hallway opened up into a wide open space, a sort of warehouse, its upper levels riddled with catwalks and wide support beams. Figures were scurrying back and forth in the space, each vying for the upper hand. A familiar looking black coat fluttered as one man dove to a new catwalk scrambling out of the way of a flurry of gunfire. Liet gained valuable shelter and turned to retaliate, his bullets finding their mark. Still, the man was pinned down, and in danger of being trapped in the aerial maze. Seeing his chance, Ashley swung up onto the catwalk, and jumped again, pulling himself up onto the old timbers of the rafters. Moving with all possible haste, he quietly traversed the ceiling. The group of men beneath him never heard him coming as he dropped down in their midst. In the confined space it was simple to use the covered blade like a club, either knocking them senseless with careful jabs, or knocking them off the platform all together.

His partner peered around the crates, curious about the cease fire only to stare at him in wonder. The shock proved almost costly as a second group, coming up from below, took advantage of their angle to open fire. Liet wasted no time, sprinting from his now exposed position back across the open space and into the offices beyond. The guardian jumped down a level, following close on his heels.

"What are you /doing/ here! You're going to get killed!"

"I could say much the same for you, old man... this stinks of a set-up... there are no fewer than five cars out front."

The hit-man sagged against the sheltering wall, catching his breath. "Delightful... What in the hell is going on..."

"Did you piss off anyone important lately...?"

"Not that I'm aware of..." He reloaded his guns, and with an abrupt nod, took the lead. Ashley tapped his sword against his leg in irritation and moved to follow.

They were doing well, moving quickly through the floors, until they were caught by a group of three laying in ambush. The guardian's only warning for the attack was Liet's sudden yelp. The man's foot had barely touched the bottom step before a hand, viper-like, lashed out from around the corner, pulling him off balance and knocking him unconscious in a smooth move.

"Get up, you idiot!" The guardian was standing over him in an instant, a second later the sword was free. Using the solid scabbard as a second weapon, he nailed the first unsuspecting attacker across the temples, laying him out with a pained groan. The second man, the same one who had disabled the assassin, slid out of the shadows with a dark smile, and Ashley cursed seeing the third man dart for the hallway, attempting to muster reinforcements.

// I don't think so... // In a spontaneous move born of impatience, he adjusted his grip on the solid weight of the scabbard, and threw it after the retreating man. The heavy metal sheathe catching the escapee painfully in the shoulder. He stumbled and fell, hitting his head painfully on the dusty floor. Both Ashley and his attacker stared for a moment in disbelief that the attack had worked. // Who knew... // The masked man turned back to him fists at the ready, and the guardian shrugged. The fight began in earnest.

The sword was almost more of a liability than a help when fighting an unarmed opponent, and the teen rapidly decided to forgo the safety of the sharp edge in favor of the quick victory that close combat could provide. He wedged his beloved weapon into the wooden staircase, and leaping over his groaning friend, attempted to tackle his prey. The man was a professional, using quick baiting attacks interspersed with defensive rolls to hit then defend against his opponent. Ashley dodged two high kicks only to misjudge the third, receiving a painful knock to the chin for his efforts. With a grunt of effort he used his impact with the wall as a springboard, catching the man mid air and intercepting his attack on Liet. The assassin was still addled, trying to pull himself off the floor and swearing sharply. Impatient to be done with the fight, the guardian caught an incoming fist, and when the grip was broken caught it again, this time applying bone-breaking pressure. He had the satisfaction of listening to his opponent gasp in pain. The man wasn't down yet, however, and Ashley received two painful jabs in the ribs for his efforts before spinning away. They fell into a testing sort of pattern. Sharp attacking jabs met with fast blocking defense while each searched for an opening; neither could land a decisive hit.

"Ash-Li!" The Riskbreaker instinctively altered stride at the shout, diving left and out of the way. The decision proved sound as three shots were fired, sending his opponent down with a wet gurgle. "Are you alright?"

"...just dandy... but you've likely given away our location..."

"We're leaving anyway, this situation is unsalvageable..."

The guardian pulled himself up and re-sheathed his weapon, applying another stunning blow to the slowly rousing man sprawled in the hall. He turned to look at his friend. "How's your head?"

"Distinctly sore... shall we go?" With a nod they were on the move again, Ashley taking the lead. They followed their original e escape route only to pause, chagrinned. A stack of collapsed beams were now effectively blocking the exit. Not knowing what else to do, they grimly decided to circle around to the main enterance, hoping to avoid any patrols. They didn't expect to find the delegation that awaited them on their return to the staircase.

The body had been tidied away, although the blood marks were still damp. Seated on the stairs, and standing around them in a rough half circle were roughly twenty men. The oldest and best dressed of them a wizened looking creature with sharp black eyes. He was obviously the one in control, a wave of the gnarled hand causing the rest to fall silent. Prepared to offer what cover he could, the guardian brought up his weapon in a threatening arc, but found his arm caught in a warning grip. Liet's face was suddenly a mask of calm politeness. 

"Master Wang Sho... it is an honor to see you, as always."

"Is that you Liet? Who is this foreigner you hide behind, I don't recall you having a partner."

"I don't, this is my driver. No one of any importance." Sensing the man's intent, Ashley quietly sheathed his weapon, allowing himself to be pushed to the background. 

"I came as soon as I could, Liet... but it seems my worry was unnecessary... a professional like yourself has nothing to fear from the intrigues of others... You've barely a scratch on you."

"Your concern for me is most flattering sir." The hit-man tilted his head thoughtfully. "I admit I was worried for a short time that I had done something to incur your displeasure of late, but I see that was a misassumption on my part."

The old man smiled, his withered teeth reminiscent of some sort of rodent. "I would never dream of harming such a /valuable/ and loyal employee, Liet... But I can understand your worry... it /has/ been a trying evening... No, this is the work of Cho Yu... but his play for power has earned him an early grave I fear... go home Liet... I have no further duties for you tonight."

"Very good sir." 

Ashley turned, intending to proceed his partner out of the building, when the querulous voice called out again. "Young man... that sword... where did you get it?"

He turned, his expression devoid of all emotion. "I made it." Not waiting to see if he was dismissed, he turned again, pushing out the main door and holding it open for the assassin. It wasn't until he had both the man and the blade safely stored in the car and was pulling away, that he took a deep breath of relief.

// ...and /you/ can't have it... you old serpent. //

********************

Liet put a hand against his forehead, hoping that some applied pressure would help take the edge off the pain. It succeeded marginally allowing him the room to think, provided he kept his eyes closed to prevent the motion of the road from making him nauseous. 

"You really like living on the edge, don't you Ash-Li... The old man will remember your face for certain..."

"He'll remember the sword for certain, you mean."

"Likely, but it won't matter soon anyway..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The guardian frowned slightly but didn't pull his attention away from the dark streets.

"It means that I'm letting you go... I don't need your services anymore... and it'll be dangerous for you if you stay..." Liet smiled at the youth's doubtful expression. "I've seen the way you look at the river... you've stayed these weeks out of some odd sense of obligation, and I admit, it was pleasant enough to have you... but now I am marked... and it is time for you to go."

"It was the old man all along?"

"Yes."

"But he said..." 

Liet sighed in amusement. "He says a lot of things, the trick is to recognize how he /looks/..."

"...and how did he look?"

"Disappointed."

The assassin rode in silence for a long minute. Convincing himself that this was the right course to take, that he felt no regret. His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected question. "...What about you?"

"I'm a dead man... I've been one for years... now it'll just be permanent."

"You'll let them kill you?"

"I am nothing without my benefactor, and he has tired of me."

"So leave then!" Liet looked up, surprised at the anger he heard. "But don't just roll over and play dead!"

"And where would I go?"

"Anywhere you like! You could come with me even... although it won't likely be a pleasant trip..."

"Go with you?" He couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice. "... up river? Into the highlands?" It took less time to consider than he thought it would. His answer ready before the car came to a stop in front of his, /their/ apartment. "Alright..."

It was Ashley's turn to be surprised. "What?"

"I said 'alright'... I want to go with you... just out of curiosity..."

The teen smiled, "Right then... how long before those thugs come looking for us...?"

"Enough to get packed, get money, and get gone."

"Let's do it."

********************

Liet gave his car a final pat as he swung a satchel over his shoulder, a thick wad of bills now carefully tucked inside. The one-eyed man in the driver's seat gave him an oily grin.

"Thanks for the wheels... I hear the Old Boss has it in for you... /conspiracy/ or something... you gonna try and bolt?"

"A strategic with-drawl... perhaps."

"You know I'm going to tell him, when he asks where the car came from..."

"But not until he asks, I trust? I've paid you enough..."

The man shrugged, starting the engine. "I'll put a tarp over it for a few days... out of sight, out of mind, dad used to say."

"Thanks." Mentally counting his scarce funds, the assassin grimaced and ducked into the alley. His silent partner had an unnerving knack for stillness, seeming to be simply part of the shadowy wall until he shifted his position. With a silent nod, the teen lead the way down the street, heading lower into the old city, and towards the river. The murky pre-dawn darkness did not help Liet's jangling nerves.

// We're never going to get out of the city... and if we do? We'll stick out like sore-thumbs in the country... I sure as hell don't look like a farmer... and the boy will need a hat at the very least... //

The roads out of town were impossible, and had been quickly vetoed. With rebellion still fermenting in various corners of the country, and the territory of Tibet resisting absorption, the government was being especially cautious. Traveling with out papers, even with bribe money readily available, was going to be a difficult endeavor. They walked along the piers, the small river craft already busy with workers, preparing for their journeys. Ashley stopped suddenly, catching the gunman's shoulder as he missed the cue. 

"That one... try asking him."

"That thing looks like it's about to sink..." The whisper was a worried hiss. Ashley merely shrugged, quietly waiting. Realizing the man was implacable, the hit-man grimaced again, and hailed the scruffy captain.

"Oi... Grandfather... do you have room for two passengers up-river? We'll pay well for quiet service out of town."

The old man eyed him speculatively, making note of his shadowy companion. "You both want to work?"

"If it is needed, yes we will work."

"Where are you headed...?" The teen's low voice caught them both by surprise.

"Nanjing... I only go to Nanjing... you want to go further? You can find a boat in Nanjing. Or take the ferry."

"The ferry would be difficult, my friend and I have no papers."

The boat master grinned humorlessly. "No papers, no ferry... You can ride with me, but it will cost you."

Ashley shrugged, "Pay the man." They stumbled onto the overloaded craft, and were pointed to a sheltered position between two bales of dried fish. 

"Stay put until we're out of the city." The old man, no longer interested in his new passengers, returned to supervising his boat. Liet sighed in annoyance.

"For what we just paid... we could ride a steamer up river..."

"Let it go, friend."

"But Ash... there were other boats..."

"No, it had to be this one..." The quiet man's stare was distant, his attention turned inward. "I... don't entirely know why... but it had to be this one. We'll be safe here. He won't sell us out."

"Are you so certain?"

"Would you rather take your chances stowing away on the ferry?"

The gunman shrugged, defeated. "Not particularly... besides, this is your journey... I'm just along to see the sights, remember?"

Ashley flashed him an odd half-grin. "You'll likely regret your choice before we're through..." He settled his pack near his feet, ever mindful of the black case and its precious contents. Closing his eyes, the dark-haired boy seemed to slowly go boneless, letting sleep take him. The gunman turned fugitive watched his partner for a disbelieving minute, before shaking his head. Forcing himself to relax, he attempted to capture some much needed rest.

He awoke later to find the teen quietly speaking to the boatman as the small craft sailed along a mostly empty stretch of misty river. Not wanting to break the odd mood, he feigned sleep, listening to the sounds of water, reeds, and the creak of the old timbers in the mast.

"I heard... I heard that Nanjing was damaged badly in the war... that the Japanese tried to destroy it..."

"Feh, destroy? That's not a strong enough word... /obliterate/ maybe... /crush/... Destroy... /weather/ can destroy... the river can... but there's no malice in it. The Japanese slaughtered Nanjing... not because they needed to, but because they /could/... sadistic bastards. They say the streets ran with blood for weeks... rape, pillage, murder... It was like an army of demons... evil spirits..."

"But the city has recovered?"

"Recovered? Well... people still live there, if that's what you mean... But if you ask me, there's a smell there now... /death/... or pain or something... It'll be another few decades before /that/ will ever wash clean. Even the fish taste funny... if you ask me..."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did..."

"Young people... they usually laugh when an old man says things like that... you're an odd one... and you talk funny too... like an old man... older than me that is..."

"I can't help the way I talk, it was the way I was taught... as for the rest... I've seen cities destroyed by war before... and the air /does/ take on a quality... and the water... the very building themselves... and then there are the ghosts."

Liet flinched at the young man's calm tone, matter-of-factly talking about things that would set a normal boy's hair on end. The old man seemed to agree, the boards of the deck creaked a little as he shifted nervously.

"...Yes... well, I've never seen them. But then, I've made a point of avoiding the place around festival times... It's one thing to wish your ancestors well... it's another thing to have to see them face-to-face..."

"Indeed..." The pair fell quiet for a long moment, before Ashley tactfully cleared his throat. "The wind is shifting, we should probably tack soon..."

"Yeah... yeah you're probably right... What about your friend... is he going to sleep all day?"

"Probably not, but leave him be for now, he's had a long night." Ropes and timbers shifted as the two men wrestled with the small sail, moving easily about the sampan as they labored. For a guilty moment, the hit-man was tempted to get up, but sleepiness overtook him like a warm blanket, and despite his uncomfortable berth, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

********************

"Hopefully we can find a ship quickly... I don't particularly want to stay here overnight." The teen's voice was uncommonly strained as they picked their way through the crowded streets of the port. Nanjing's ancient buildings were surprisingly intact, either spared from the fire and artillery of the fighting, or rebuilt in the scant years since the war. Liet looked around in idle curiosity, watching the downtrodden city with a new-comer's interest. They had been on the tiny boat for more than a week and it felt good to stretch his legs again.

"Come now, it isn't so bad... it's a bit more old fashioned than Shanghai... but nothing to be alarmed at... I'm sure we can find a nice inn to tuck in at... and then catch a ship heading out tomorrow..."

"Aren't you worried that the syndicate will come after you?"

"A little, but I can handle them..."

"Ah..." 

The hit-man huffed in irritation, catching his partner by the arm. "What's the matter with you? I've never seen you this jumpy before..."

"Nothing... it's just this place... I shouldn't stay here... I've got the feeling it's only a matter of time before it knows I'm here... and I really don't want that kind of attention."

"..."it"...? What are you /talking/ about... You don't /really/ believe in ghost do you? My uncle used to go to a spiritualist all the time when I was a kid... he thought his wife was speaking to him through the movements of a pebble on writing tablet... one day I crawled under the table out of boredom and discovered the trick was all done with magnets... /ridiculous/..." 

"... not a very good medium then... But then I admit I've only ever seen two genuine seances... Both were done by friends of mine. Most of the ghosts /I've/ dealt with were out in the open..."

Liet felt suddenly a little less comfortable with the old city pressing in around him. Fixing the calm smile on his face, he punched the boy lightly in the shoulder, and pointed him into a restaurant. "Stop talking like that, the old man is right, you /are/ a strange kid... besides, you're making /me/ nervous." The wanderer merely shrugged and let himself be pulled to a corner table.

They let Ashley's instincts guide them again, as they wandered the rows of boats tied to the quay. A burly man, cursing loudly finally caught the teen's attention, and he watched the crew's frantic efforts to get the boat loaded as demanded. Once more, Liet was waved forward, shaking his head at the unlikely choice.

"Excuse me, sir?"

A tall stack of poorly lashed kegs wobbled fatefully, then tumbled; some of them dropping into the river to bob along beside the boat. The captain blinked at the minor catastrophe, "Ta-ma de!" The barked curse, was more then enough to send the loading-crew scrambling, and the gunman idly wondered if the red-eyed man was about to burst a blood-vessel in outrage. He raised a questioning eyebrow to his companion, but the silent man urged him forward with a jerk of his chin.

"Ummmm, excuse me... I was wondering..."

"WHAT?!" Finding himself directly in the path of the 100-proof breath, Liet quickly reassessed his chances of getting through the conversation without a black eye. The man wasn't simply hot-blooded, he was also tremendously hung-over.

// Why me...? //

Using one of his less friendly tones, the gunman stood his ground. "My companion and I are looking for transport up river... I've heard that you are heading out soon...?"

"No passengers." The gruff reply was exactly as expected.

Eyes that could freeze ice, locked with the still bleary ones. "We are willing to pay, of course..."

"No passengers."

"I don' think you understand me, dear sir."

"Fuck off... city-man... Find someone else... this is a /working/ boat... I go out to Chiu-Chiang, three week trip... no room for idlers."

Liet smiled coolly, "We will work, of course..."

"You?! Work?!" The large peasant looked him up and down, taking in the clean suit and leather shoes.

"Yes, my optically-challenged captain, 'work'. My companion and I will assist you and your crew... in return we ask for transportation, berthing space, and food during the journey."

"Heh, I don't trust you city-man... It'll cost you extra..." He curiously poked the silent teen. "Oi... Shiao-huo-zi, do you speak?"

"Yes."

The boatman huffed in amusement, thinking for a moment. The task was not done without effort. "Fine, we leave tomorrow morning, don't be late... bring money."

"Thank you." Throwing Ashley an 'I told you so' look, the assassin turned and stalked into the city. His partner a grim shadow at his back. Settling on a bench in the small neighborhood center, Liet sighed. "See? I told you the best we could do was tomorrow."

"So it seems..."

"Come on, admit it... the city's not so bad... it's kind of pretty almost..."

"It looks a lot like it used to... except for the new bits on the east side... and the parts that were burned..."

The gunman raised a curious eyebrow. "I didn't know you'd been here before..."

"...It was a long time ago... come on, let's find an inn." The two man pushed into the crowd unaware that they were being followed. A tired looking businessman idly dropped his paper, moving slowly after the fugitives. Further down the street, another man lounging at a noodle shop saw the signal, and slipped away to spread the word.

********************

// If this is adventuring... I should've done it a long time ago... it's quite relaxing really... well, compared to my 'day job' anyway... //

Liet sipped the harsh home-brewed beer from the comfort of his bedroll, idly watching the dark teen methodically polish his sword. "You do that so seriously... you need to enjoy life more... here, have some beer...?"

"No thanks..." The young man didn't look up from his work, carefully wiping the silvery surface before sliding it back into its sheath. Hesitating a moment, he then pulled the second blade, turning it over in his hands before gingerly easing the sword free. Unlike the first weapon, the metal seemed dull and lusterless. The gunman blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks. The lamplight suddenly seemed a little weaker, or perhaps more selective. He could still plainly see the room, and his companion, but the metal in the guardian's hands was oddly blurred, /smudged/. He blinked again, finally understanding what he was seeing. It was as if the blade /absorbed/ light, the weapon's edge had a nimbus of almost visible darkness.

"What the hell...?" 

Wiping the blade swiftly with the oil-cloth, Ashley returned it to the case, decisively clicking the lid shut. "Go to sleep, Liet..."

"But the sword..."

"Better not to think about it..."

"But..."

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day..."

"Fine... fine... but you owe me..." The teen snorted at the petulant tone. Liet, finished his beer with a grumble, and covered the lantern. Burrowed in his bed, he listened lazily to his companion's quiet preparations, and eventually to the steady breathing. 

// Tomorrow we'll catch a ride with that idiot drunkard, and see how long I can but up with the bastard before I put a bullet through him, or worse. Three weeks...? Maybe /I/ should take up drinking... //

His restful doze didn't last long, survival instincts dragging him out of an odd dream and into the dark night. The gunman blinked, tatters of the dream still clinging to his consciousness in disturbing ways. His wife had been trying to tell him something, he could almost still smell her perfume as she knelt on the mat in front of him. She had tried to talk to him, but he had been busy reading the paper, and for some stupid reason, wasn't interested.

// Why the hell didn't I listen...? It was probably important... whatever it was... god I hate dreams like that... // Outside the shuttered window, a whispered 'shut up' caught his attention. He reached for his gun, half expecting the gentle tap on his shoulder as he rose. The guardian was already wide awake, pack and case slung across his shoulder. Liet fumbled in the near lightless room, silently pulling on his pants and shoes as he mentally ran through a litany of curses.

// Bastards, couldn't they have waited a day? But no, /they/ probably took the ferry... they've probably been waiting for days... /lucky me/... //

It was simple to slip quietly through the door, even well around the corner, he could clearly hear the sound of splintering wood as the shutter was broken. They picked up the pace, sprinting the last few feet to the courtyard and scrambling up over the old-fashioned gate. Liet was already following the guardian down the street before he fully had his bearings, gun ready in his hand. The teen moved with his customary deadly grace, the slender line of a sword tucked discretely in his belt.

// It's just like one of those lame 'action' novels I used to read as a kid... this is crazy... but then, what /isn't/ ? //

A hushed shout behind them, drew his attention back to the task at hand. Looking over his shoulder as he ran, he counted five shadows as they poured out of the alley way. It was difficult to whisper and run at the same time, but he made the attempt.

"Hey, Ash... Unless you feel like running all night, I suggest we find someplace quiet to have a polite 'talk' with these gentlemen."

"I know, but /where/..."

The assassin fell silent, following the teen through another series of alleys and streets until something caught his eye. The obviously derelict building might once have been a temple, or a town hall, but now it stood empty. The doors were barred, a warning sign painted on them, but the window was within reach. Putting on a burst of speed he signaled his intention to his partner, and headed for the dubious shelter. A short scramble later, he dropped to the dusty floor, breathing through his collar to keep from sneezing. A second thump beside him proved the boy was right behind him.

"Liet... this isn't a good idea..." The teen looked particularly tense in the wan moonlight, his lips pressed into a thin worried line. 

"You whimper like an old woman... you've never been skittish before..."

"You don't understand..." The dark youth didn't get to finish the sentence, their guests had arrived. The split up, diving behind any readily available shelter as the pursuers opened fire. Liet clucked his tongue in disapproval.

"No class, they've got no class at all... all this noise, they're going to bring the police here in no time flat..." Flicking the safety off his gun, he took a breath and calmly took aim.

"Wait!" Ashley was one second too late, the bullet cleanly piercing one of the men's chests. The gangster went down with a grunt and didn't move again, a dark stain spreading beneath his corpse. "Idiot!"

"What are you /babbling/ about! They're trying to /kill/ us... remember?" 

The guardian ignored the scathing comment, choosing his words as if speaking to a child. "I know, but /listen/ to me... This city...too many have died here already... Death on that scale /corrupts/ a place... it encourages... /things/... to come here... like nectar attracts bees. If I were stronger, this wouldn't be an issue, but I'm not. Frankly I'm just strong enough to catch their attention, and believe me, that's not a good position to be in. /Especially/ at night... especially where there is fresh blood..."

"What are you saying?" The hit-man did not understand what the teen was getting at, but at some gut level, he was beginning to. There was an odd, icy quality to the air and a shiver ran down his spine.

"I- fuck. Too late..." With a fatalistic sigh, Ashley drew his sword, and grabbing his friend pulled him slowly towards the wall. The gang had stopped shooting, looking down in curiosity as their fallen comrade shuddered, then /moved/. Groaning, the man staggered slowly to his feet, seemingly uninterested in the hole in his chest. His friends stared at him in disbelief.

"Wei?" The leader stepped forward, trying to assist the wavering man. The corpse raised its gun with a jerky gesture, and fired it at point blank range into the man's head.

Liet would've swore, but a hand clamped down hard over his mouth. Warned to silence, he could only watch in horror as his companion silently searched the wall. The gangsters were now shouting, trying to shoot down the lurching figure. Each bullet made contact, impacting wetly with flesh and bone, but the shots did little, merely driving the creature back. It was beyond pain now. As of the macabre scene wasn't bad enough, the second dead-man also began to twitch, its wrecked face no impediment to its revival. In the shadows surrounding the terrified men, several silvery shapes wavered into existence. The misty torsos were translucent, ending in a tapered blur where legs should have been. Their arms were outstretched greedily, blobby formless heads staring eyelessly as they hovered in the air. Even had he wanted to cry out, he had no voice for it, unable to look away, he tugged helplessly on the guardian's sleeve. Ashley looked away from his work and this time swore sharply.

"Fuck this, I can't find the side door... we'll have to risk it, while they're distracted..." With a powerful swing of the gleaming sword, he cleaved into the shelter's wooden wall. The sound of tearing and splintering wood was alarmingly loud, even with the other men's shouting. Liet's blood turned to water as one of the silvery shapes turned his direction, as if noticing them for the first time.

"...Ash-Li..."

"I know, believe me, I know..." The guardian struck the wall again, this time opening the gap into a space large enough for a man to squeeze through. Not looking back, he grabbed his friend's arm in an iron grip and forcibly hauled him out into the street. The ghost vanished from the far side of the room, reappearing less than ten feet away. 

"/Run/."

********************

"Where are... we /going/...?" The pace was brutal, they moved through the city as if the hounds of hell were after them. Liet's sleep-starved brain was more than happy to point out that a flock of hungry ghosts was probably bad enough /without/ any additional horrors of the four-footed variety. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as the empty street behind them was abruptly illuminated by a hazy shape rising from the ground. It was soon joined by two more.

// No No No... slowing down bad... don't look back... // Liet was a man with ice for blood. Liet was a trained killer who never hesitated, and never showed fear. Liet was a man who was rapidly realizing that he hadn't known what fear was until the corpse had come to life again. Saving his remaining breath for the run, he sprinted after his partner as they worked their way away from the river-districts. He doggedly raced up the increasingly frequent staircases, his heart pounding in his ears. In the distance behind him, the odd mournful cries of the ghosts echoed again.

// Please let this be a nightmare... I'm ready to wake up now... I really am... /any time/ now... //

The gunman wiped the sweat from his face, and barely caught himself as he almost tripped. The teen seemed to here him falter, and turned slightly, slacking the pace slightly.

"Just a little farther... I hope... If it's not here... things could get ugly."

"Wh.... what's not here?"

Ashley was already at the top of the last flight of stairs, "Oh... it /is/ here... /thank you/ thankyouthankyou..." Turning to grab a hold of his flailing partner, he pulled him up the last few steps. The panorama from the top of the hill was not an optimistic one, the sky showed no hint that day was approaching, however below them at the base of the hill, five shambling forms were starting up the stairs. Phantoms flickered in and out of existence like a flock of illusory lanterns, flowing effortlessly over the stone steps. Liet looked back only once, his wheezing breath a whimper.

"We're going to die..."

"Don't be stupid. Here, through here..." The temple didn't have much of a park to speak of, most of it consisting of a small garden around the back. They crossed the doorstep at a dead run, the guardian charging shoulder first into the latched door, forcing it wide open. They skidded to a stop in the ancient room, and surrendering to the inevitable, the gunman sagged to the floor.

"Trapped... we're trapped..."

"...Holy ground... This is still holy ground... Can't you feel it...?" The teen slowly sank to his knees, panting . "They can't come here... a place as old as this... it takes a lot to overcome this much power. I'm surprised they didn't burn it down during the occupation."

Outside, the sickly groaning grew louder, and Liet watched in morbid fascination as the ghosts crested the hill. They drifted lazily down the raked gravel path, disappearing and reappearing in a dizzying display. For a second, it seemed the dark-haired youth was mistaken, the creatures moving steadily closer. Close enough now that he could smell their faint odor of decay, he looked nervously at his companion. Ashley for all his certainty was also watching the wraiths with caution, worry evident in his steady gaze. Something curious began to occur. The ghosts stopped, one by one, unable to proceed past the gaping door. They stood a moment, shuffling in a moaning confusion before seeming to become bored. They drifted away, fading back into the night. The zombies, were slower, almost hesitant as they drew near. They, unlike the shining phantoms, could not even step on the temple's path and unable to come any closer, they rambled back-and-forth on the street in frustration.

The guardian, sighing with relief, pulled himself to his feet. Producing a heavy gun from his bag, he staggered towards the door, and careful to keep himself inside the frame, slowly raised the weapon and took aim. "The trick is..." His voice was almost clinical as he fired a shot. One of the undead fell with a groan as its chest collapsed, dissolving into a pool of shadows and fading away. "To do them the right /sort/ of damage... If the body is damaged enough..." He took another shot with the powerful weapon, dispelling another of the lurching creatures. "... Then the Dark will lose interest, once the Dark lets go... they just sort of dissolve." The gun roared again. "Of course, there's no guarantee that they won't be back tomorrow... The city as tainted as it is... But we'll be gone by then... with any luck." Liet watched, stunned, as the last two monsters went down under the casual marksmanship.

"How do you know all this...?"

"... A friend explained it all to me once... although by that point, I had pretty much figured it out by trial and error..."

"... A... friend...?" The gunman felt no particular inclination to stand, not trusting his legs to hold him. He could see all he needed to see from his spot on the floor. The night was quiet once more, only the occasional pale flicker hinting that there were things on the street that would set children screaming. Oddly, the phantasms seemed afraid of the houses and shops. "They do not hunt those who are sleeping?"

"The houses were likely purified... it wouldn't keep anything /really/ hungry out... but for weak things like this? That, along with the presence of /living/ people would be enough..." The guardian shrugged. "They were only interested in us because of the blood... they get excited..."

"If they're so weak... why did we run...?" Reason was slowly returning as his heart regained its normal pace. 

Ashley grinned darkly, fishing in his bag to replace the ammunition he had spent. "Fighting close-quarters with one or two of those guys is a pain... even with the right equipment... five on one...? With only this? I'm crazy, not stupid." He chambered a round, clicking the safety back on before dropping the weapon back in the bag. "And then there were the ghosts... again, in small numbers, with the right equipment, nothing to sweat about... but I counted at least 12... again, crazy... not stupid." The teen stretched, finally looking around the spacious room. "Besides, it's not like you can shoot a ghost... well maybe you could, but it'd have to be one hell of a bullet..."

"... So how do you kill a ghost...?" Liet was bemused, part of him fully aware that he had gone into shock, while the rest hovered in hazy contentment. 

"Well... With a good sword, I suppose... or magic... magic's probably the most reliable way... again, do them enough damage, and they'll go away..."

"But not forever...?"

"Depends on the ghost..."

The gunman nodded thoughtfully, and following the teen's gaze around the room, began to laugh. It was a weak, exhausted sort of giggle, but he found he couldn't stop, his body was completely drained. 

"What's so funny..."

"Th- the-... what are we going to do tomorrow when the caretaker wakes up and wonders what happened to his door?"

"What you mean the people who aren't awake because I just gunned down five zombies in the street?" Finding the laughter infectious, Ashley flopped on the floor, beginning to chuckle in amusement. "...He's probably going to be really pissed." For some reason the though only made them laugh harder, exhaustion and relief a giddy combination in the pre-dawn light.

"We're going to be in so mu-mu-mu-much trouble..."

The guardian was the first to catch his breath, sucking in much-needed lungfulls of air. "Is it sunrise yet?"

"Barely..."

"We'll give it a few minutes then... Then we should get going...I /really/ don't want to have to explain this to the police..."

********************

********************

"End of Part 1, begin Intermission..."

Notes: So originally this was going to be one massive section, but it occurred to me that with ff.net behaving as shaky as it has been, 2 small sections of readers going "What the hell?" is still preferably to 1 large section that is impossible to download correctly. *shrug* Not much to say at this point save, the "real" action is coming up, so don't be discouraged! also, the random Chinese vocab is care of Fish-chan and is at the bottom of the next chunk. I'd say I was curious to hear what you think of this little divergence of style... but I'm probably too much of a coward. ^_^ I'll just hurry-along with the 'return-of-Sydney'...

"...end of Intermission. Begin of Part 2."

http://roodinverse.dreamhost.com


	7. Interlude: Liet's Story (part 2)

Looking5-2 ****

Looking for the Lost: (part 5-2)

An AU Vagrant Story fic, language, violence, and adult situations. (Vocab. and explanation at the end, if you ever make it that far. :P)

********************

Liet shouldered his bag and morosely twisted the last of the water from the sleeves of his jacket. His partner wasn't doing any better. The guardian closely resembled a half drowned puppy with his hair a damp mop and the oversized clothing still dripping river silt. The gunman looked over his shoulder at the spot where their boat /had/ been.

"/Great/ just... /GREAT/... I /told/ you he was bad-news... but you wanted /this/ boat!"

"I know... I'm sorry..." Ashley slogged through the muddy reeds and began the painful process of climbing the small rocky ledge that lead to the road.

"He /sank/ his /own/ fucking boat?!"

"You should've woken me up... I could've stopped him..."

"How was /I/ supposed to know that he broke something important?! Do I look like a Sailor?!"

"No, Liet..." The teen flashed a tired smile. "Here, give me your hand... I'll help you up..."

"And /why/ the fuck are you taking this so calmly?!" The assassin waved a finger threateningly under the youth's nose.

The dark-haired man blinked slowly at him, and then shrugged. "Getting angry won't change the fact that the boat is gone, and every worldly possession I have is now covered in mud..." He stood, orienting himself on the damp gravel road. "The sooner we start walking... the sooner we get somewhere... we can't be more than two weeks from Chiu-Chiang..."

"I thought we were only four days away..."

"That was by boat..."

"Oh..." Liet looked around at the untold beauty of the Yangtze River's unpopulated stretch, and at the tiny one-lane muddy path that was misnamed a highway. The trail twisted and dipped, moving inexorably /upwards/. With a pained sigh, he followed the westerner, carefully putting one food ahead of the other. It began to rain. "Oh of all the /unfair/... "

********************

Water was plentiful, /more/ than plentiful. Really, there was enough of it to be a down-right nuisance. The older man made no concession to pride as he clung to the outstretched tree-branch, wadding through the washed-out section of road. The impromptu creek cascaded beautifully over the edge of the cliff-side highway, a new waterfall of rainwater and debris. Pine bark scrapped painfully at his skin as he shimmied clear, hauled to his feel by blessedly steady hands. Ashley paused a moment, checking him over for obvious signs of damage before flashing a half-grin.

"There, still alive... Shall we go? This bit is rather unstable looking."

"/Please/ don't say 'unstable'..." His tired complaint went unheard, the teen already pressing ahead. Liet had never walked so much in his life, his body finding several new ways to hurt that he hadn't thought possible. They had been on the roadway for three days, and had made an unpleasantly small amount of progress. The region seemed devoid of human life, only the shattered remains of desolate fishing villages hinting at what had happened. Depopulated by war, hunger, and the flood-swollen river, the rough region had been abandoned.

// ...No people means no /food/... and If I don't eat /something/ soon... even Ash is going to start looking good... //

Trapped on the highway, currently at mid-level between the turbulent river below, and the lush monsoon-foliage above, they were literally starving. "We need to find a town... or a shack... or /something/... I'm /hungry/... and /cold/..." The monologue became something of a litany, interrupted only once during the day's ordeals, when as if on cue, it began to pour again. The heavy rain made the visibility almost nothing, they walked in single-file on the inner-most edge of the road, one hand on the cliff-side for balance. He switched from complaints to curses with a fluency caused by days of practice. The guardian was silent, moving slower now, but setting a steady pace. Head down, hair soaked flat against his skull, he grimly tested each foothold before moving forward, watching for slick mud and other dangers.

It was somewhere around the fifth day that Liet slumped to his knees, his legs refusing to take him further. The dawn had come, cold and hazy; their already damp clothes receiving an added helping of dew. Sleep had been a long time coming in the make shift shelter of the outcrop, and the gunman arose feeling worse than when he sat down. He sneezed miserably. The teenager had looked at him in quiet worry before starting up the next near-vertical stretch of road, a murmured "Don't get sick." Falling to his wooly feeling ears. The assassin would've laughed, if he had had the energy. A little while later he did laugh, sitting in the mud, staring at his traitorous limbs. They had the right idea, the quest was impossible, better to wait in the highway for rescue, or for the rains to wash him away.

// I wonder... will my corpse wash all the way to Shanghai? What an odd sort of homecoming that would be... //

"Get up, Liet."

"Can't. Legs won't listen."

The quiet man grimaced, kneeling beside him to cautiously feel his knees and ankles. The day had been startlingly dry, hopefully heralding the end of the rainy season. The gunman resisted the urge to giggle as the inspection continued, tilting his head cooperatively as the teen examined his face and neck. "You're running a fever, and you've exhausted yourself."

"Not a terrible surprise... I would kill for some pork and steamed rice..."

Ashley laughed for the first time in days. "...So could I, old man, so could I... But we're almost at tree-level... see? Maybe I can catch us something edible..."

"I'll have one rat now please, and one to-go..." Liet knew he was almost raving, but couldn't stop himself. His companion watched him for a grim moment before taking a deep breath, seeming to come to some decision.

"Come on, Liet..."

"Can't. Legs won't listen." It was childish, and funny, /very/ funny. He felt his small pack lifted free of his shoulder, and watched his friend hang it around his neck.

"And now you... come on... just don't strangle me, ok?" Bemused, the assassin clambered up onto Ashley's back, and winced at the distinctly unnerving feeling of movement beneath him. 

// How the hell do little kids put up with this?! I'm a grown man, and I'm scared shitless... What if I'm too heavy? What if he slips? // His brain continues to toss terrifying possibilities until giving-up, he closed his eyes, unwilling to cope with the reality of the situation. He /was/ feverish, he could feel the alternating waves of heat and chill wrack his body. // I want to go home... // If he had considered the thought seriously, he would have been forced to admit that he didn't know where it was. The fever left no room for idle musings however, beating like a steady bass-drum behind his eye-lids. 

********************

"Liet...?" The man had fallen silent, his breath a steady warmth against his shoulder. Ashley shook his damp hair out of his eyes, grimly aiming for the top of the hill. He was /tired/. Each step on the treacherous road was an exercise in willpower, muscles straining and trembling in pain. He welcomed the burning feeling, using it to keep him focused on the task at hand. His mind was beginning to show a distressing tendency to wander.

// And the old man isn't getting any lighter... just fifty more feet...//

// ...twenty-five... //

// ... ten, I can do this. //

// ...made it? //

Almost disbelieving, he took a few more steps on the now level road, and turned, looking behind him. The vista was incredible, something reminiscent of an ancient wood cut, or ink painting. Far /far/ beneath them, the murky green river wound its way between the battered cliffs, the occasional fleck of white in the water hinting at submerged rocks. The steep gray granite was broken and cracked from centuries of battery by river and rain, each and every nook and cranny filled with bright green bamboo, and other rain-loving plants, higher up, bent pine trees leaned together like groups of old men. Down in the cleft, and all around him, wispy fog-like clouds seemed to twist and flow, sinuous serpents of vapor. 

"Hey Liet... you've got to see this..." But the man slept on, unawares. With a sigh Ashley staggered over to the relative shelter of the trees, lowering his burden onto the soft turf. "You don't look so good..." Pausing to rest a moment, he slumped against the side of the tree, and closing his eyes, fell fast asleep. He never even noticed as two men walked down the road, the taller one wrapped in a oddly old-fashioned black cowl. They paused, studying the two fugitives, the shorter one clucking in dismay.

"They are, neither of them, doing very well... silly humans, don't they know this is no weather to travel in?"

"Odd..." The taller man moved forward with unusual curiosity, crouching next to the sleeping guardian.

"What is it 'Sala ? Is he on your list? You'd might as well leave him, I doubt he'll last the night. Not worth the bother, if you ask me."

"I didn't..." The more talkative man simple shrugged, not put off my his companions gruff style. He watched as a three-fingered hand reached out to gently tip the young face into the light.

"The boy is interesting, I grant you... a curiously old-soul in that one..."

"I know this boy..."

"Really? A friend of yours?"

"Yes..."

Salten stretched, taking in the odd scene with his usual candor. "Great, fine... /wonderful/ even." He brushed the rain from his jacket. "Now what?"

********************

"Good morning! Or perhaps I should say 'Good evening' as that is more appropriate given the hour... how do you feel?" 

The assassin blinked muzzily, awake but not fully alive yet. It was as if he was trapped in thick warm mud, pulling free was a slow effort. "I... gah... water?"

"I think I can do one better, how about soup...?" The voice was altogether too cheerful as supportive hands lifted him slowly upright. Liet felt more than saw the wooden bowl being pressed into his hands, and lifted it to his lips, gulping down the warm broth. "Better...?"

"Um... yes, thank you... is there more...?" Immediate needs dealt with, he rubbed his face with his hands, grimacing at the several-day old beard on his chin. Feeling awake, but still horribly run down, he gingerly accepted a second bowl, this time getting a proper look at his savior. He very nearly spilled the hot liquid in his lap. A most unusual sort of man was perched on the stool across from him, watching him eat with an oddly cat-like smile. He would've looked a normal young man, if not for the braid of almost silver colored hair looped over his shoulder. The color in odd conflict with the youth of his features.

// Ears... his ears... // The gunman focused on drinking his soup while his mind happily gibbered in confusion. His odd companion blinked at his odd behavior. 

"You've been rather ill, I'm afraid... but seem to have pulled through... I know something of human medicine you see... so it's lucky we found you when we did... 'Sala is a nice-enough sort... but he's bloody useless in situations like these."

// Oh My Merciful Gods... his /eyes/... // He very carefully placed the empty bowl on the floor. The shaking hands had nothing to do with his sickness.

"You know, it'll be a lot easier for both of us, if you just /ask/... these introductions are always such a hassle..." The golden eyes twinkled with obvious mischief.

"You... what /are/ you...? and where is Ash-Li? and am I dead? Are you a demon? Who /are/ you?!"

The honey-colored man blinked, nonplused. "I seem to have opened a floodgate... I think I'll answer them in order of importance, do you mind? I didn't think so." He took a deep breath. "You may call me Salten, my real name is considerably more complicated. Your friend is outside having a conversation with an old companion of his. You are very much alive, thanks to /me/ I might add, and 'no' I am not a demon, rather the opposite in fact."

"Which makes you..."

"Have you ever heard of the Land of Nod, Liet?" The young man's expression was amused.

"Isn't that a children's story...? About a country east of the sun, and west of the moon...? A place where magic comes from...?"

"Yes, indeed it is... but perhaps there is some truth to it as well... What if I were to tell you that I am from such a place...?"

"Do you kidnap children?"

"Never against their will..."

"Oh... do you eat people?"

"Hardly."

"Have you put at curse on me?"

"Not yet..."

"/Will/ you put a curse on me?"

"That depends how many more questions you have." The cat-eyed man grinned.

The gunman shrugged, amazed at how easily he was taking the new twists in his life. "Not three weeks ago I was chased through the streets of Nanjing by five walking corpses and the better part of a squad of ghosts, all of them bent on making me their dinner... Somehow... I don't think I'd care if you had horns... but I'd appreciate not being cursed, if it's all the same to you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Salten rose, gathering up the dish. "I think I'll go tell Ashley that you are recovered, he's been rather worried about you." The tent flap rustled as he slipped through, disappearing outside into the night.

// I think I've gone daft... too much stress... // Careful not to tangle himself in the blankets, he crawled forwards until he could put his eye to the small gap in the smooth fabric. 

"I wish I could help you, Ash... but this is my busiest time of year... and to be honest, if the place is have as well hidden as you say, I'd probably fly right over it and never find what you're looking for."

"I understand, you've already done more than I can repay you for..."

"You nearly peeled a decade off my life, turning up like this... We all were certain you were /lost/. People don't usually come back from the void..."

"I was... highly motivated."

"I'll bet. How's the blonde? Still up to his old tricks?" The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Way to put your foot in your mouth, 'Sala, try swallowing it too, next time." The familiar voice was full of dry sympathy as it broke the painful moment. "Soup, Ashley?"

"No thank you." 

"Your little friend is up... you should probably go convince him that we mean no harm... he's got some rather peculiar notions."

"As far as /your/ people are concerned, I doubt he's far off..." There was humor in the statement, and the other travelers 'humph'ed in amusement.

"I'm an anthropologist for Nature's sake... not a hunter... If I wanted to live up to the more grisly reputations, I'd have to ask 'Sala here for pointers on which end of the sword to use..."

"The pointy end goes /away/ from you..."

This time Ashley laughed as well, moving towards the tent with an easy grace. The gunman shuffled quickly back to his make-shift bed, trying to not look overly guilty as his friend arrived.

"You don't look so bad... how do you feel, groggy?"

"Tired. But fine. What happened, who /are/ those people?"

The guardian scratched his head in bemused wonder. "They... well, /one/ of them used to be a friend of mine... well maybe that's too strong a word, but we fought in a war together... So I suppose we're as close as he lets /anybody/ get... Methuselah is an odd fellow."

The assassin was tempted to ask /which/ war, but decided he didn't want to know. "... and the other one...? The one with the /ears/...?" 

"Chatty bastard, isn't he...? He seems to mean well enough, even if he does remind me of my sixth grade history teacher." The teen straightened the blankets in an almost paternal fashion. "Get some rest now... We'll have to get going soon enough."

"Where are we?"

"In sight of Chiu-Chiang... they must have moved us while we slept, for rather obvious reasons, they don't tend to spend much time in cities..." He thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, I should probably warn you... if you think Sal is odd looking, wait until you see Methuselah, but try not to yell in his face, he's kinda touchy about that stuff..."

"... got it. No yelling." Feeling only mild dread, Liet drifted back to sleep.

********************

Either out of consideration, or out of general aloofness, the assassin found that the taller stranger gave him a wide berth around the campsite. He didn't mind that much, the fast-talking scholar absorbing most of his attention. The guardian gave the pot a final stir before standing up, " Hey, Methuselah, let's go have a look around... I need to stretch my legs." The dark-cloaked man rose from his crouch on a nearby stump his appearance oddly hunchbacked. He had the hood pushed back in a concession to the warm day, and Liet discovered that the man sported a rather shaggy haircut, and a large pair of what looked like army-surplus tinted welding-goggles. The man also towered easily over Ashley, hunched or not, a gaunt giant.

"Sure."

The morishi, or so he identified himself, sniffed in amusement as the pair stalked off. "No wonder they get along, neither ever says anything..." He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Although I have to admit, 'Sala has talked more in the last five days then he has for the better part of ten years... and who /knows/ if he talked to anyone before I came along to badger him..."

"You've been traveling with that guy for ten /years/...?" The assassin blinked in disbelief.

"It's a good a way as any to pass the time... and it provides me ample opportunity to conduct research for my book!"

"You're writing a book? About what?"

"Human social behavioral patterns. I doubt it'll be a best seller, but it is a topic that has never been well addressed... Most people think it's a waste of time."

Liet took several seconds to digest the information, uncertain whether to be impressed or insulted. "You... /study/ humans?"

The golden-eyed man smiled cutely. "Yes! It's my life's work!"

"...great..."

"Don't you want to be better understood?"

"You don't capture and 'tag' us, do you?"

"Not yet, I don't have the funding for that..." Salten took a look at the man's alarmed expression. "I'm joking! There are better ways of collecting data then running around with tranquilizer guns... besides... you people are aggressive enough /without/ provocation..."

"Oh..."

"Say, there's an idea... would you like to be part of my book? I'll pay you for your time..."

"What do I have to do...?"

"Just tell me about yourself, your childhood, your family, your job... I'm collecting stories you see...for future cross reference."

"You want to know /my/ story?" The assassin made a face. "It's not much of anything..." 

Salten shrugged, "It's not over yet, is it... So don't go saying that yet. Later perhaps I'll see you again, and you can tell me the rest... of your 'incredible quest' perhaps..."

"Quest? If it were a quest, wouldn't I be searching for something?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm just following Ash-Li... The boy needs /someone/ to look after him."

"You'd be surprised at his self-sufficiency." He tilted his head, birdline, and considered the gunman from a new angle. "I don't know what you seek, Liet... I'm no sage... But I /can/ tell you what you'll find... If you survive the journey."

"Oh? And what is that..."

"Follow Ashley, little human, and you will be taken on a pilgrimage to the edge of the world... to a temple in the clouds... and there... if you are /very/ lucky... you may just witness a /miracle/." The pale-haired man grinned. "An honest-to-goodness-first-time-this-millennia-/miracle/... Maybe not something you'd think to look for... but it'd be something worth /seeing/... hmmm? Quite a story..."

He shrugged, not understanding the song-song man's point, "Sounds exciting. So you want to buy the story? How much?"

"No money I'm afraid, but I have some things that may be of use to you..." Salten dug through his pockets a minute, pulling several things out only to look at them and shove them back in. In the end, three objects were placed carefully on their log-bench; a piece of silk yarn, a palm-sized shard of mirror, and silver bullet. Liet examined the last in amusement, noting it was the right caliber for his gun. 

"A string, a shard, and a single piece of ammo? You're joking, right?" He chuckled, "What am I going to do, make a wind-chime?"

"Don't be crass! The string becomes a rope of any length you please, stronger than iron chain... The mirror can make or see through any disguise! As for the bullet... well I just figured you could use it, I don't know where I picked it up from... but it may come in handy..."

"A magic 'rope', a magic 'mirror', and a bullet you found by the side of the road... it's probably a dud..." The gunman shrugged helplessly, "What the Hell, why not." Tucking his dubious new possessions in his pack, he thought a minute, then began.

"I was born... in this little town outside of the main city... mostly fishing and crap like that... but my dad was a government clerk, and eventually got promoted to a job down-town. I remember that mom didn't want to leave our old house... she cried for days..."

********************

"That's that... let's get going hmm? We could both use a fresh set of clothes... This time, I'll let you pick the boat." Ashley's mood was surprisingly cheerful as they stood in the now empty clearing. 

Their two odd hosts had packed the camp by the simple expedient of making the tents disappear, leaving only dents in the grass where they had stood. The assassin, bemused had even waved goodbye as the pair faded from view. The hadn't walked. They were simply /gone/. He looked down the now dry expanse of road, watching it dip down the hillside into a smallish sort of town. The antique canted-rooflines reminded him of something out of a post card, but his good mood was undeniable. He even tossed a cheerful salute to Chairman Mao as they strolled through the market, provoking a snort of amusement from his companion.

"What, I'm just thanking the Mighty Chairman for this nice, /quaint/ town! After all... he could've leveled it..."

"Good point..." The guardian nodded thoughtfully.

They picked through a second-hand clothing shop, Liet parting with a small number of rather soggy bills, and some loose change to purchase them fresh shirts and a hot lunch. The roasted fish tasted rather like a tar-coated boot. Determined to think ahead this time, the assassin also wandered into a more esoteric shop, reappearing with a water-tight tin box. 

"No more soggy food!"

"I doubt it's going to rain anymore..."

"Forget rain, I'm talking about another dunking in the river!"

"Ah..." 

Provisions purchased, they wandered through the narrow cart-lanes, eventually finding themselves at the river. Almost chortling with delight, the gunman carefully inquired after several boats before finally settling on a particularly sturdy little craft. A small-town cargo run about to return up river. For an additional fee they were more than happy to take them a bit further, even all the way to Wu-han.

"Enough of this walking! This time, we ride cool and comfortable..."

"It was about time for a change of luck..."

"Luck had nothing to do with it!" The guardian merely shrugged, and climbed onboard.

The little sailboat made decent time, even with the strong currents. Liet spent a very happy week idly trailing a fishing line in the rushing water, he even occasionally caught something. His partner only blinked in silent amusement as he fished his first boot from the murky depth. The fish were met with slightly more active interest on the part of the crew. The younger man returned to his quiet ways, slouched in an out of the way corner of the deck for hours at a time. His eyes were either watching the unceasing variety of the steep cliffs, or staring up at the high clouds. The weather remained clear, cooperating for the first time in months. 

// Boats are /so/ much better than walking... // The assassin flicked his line out again, idly wishing for a fish to bite. // We'll just nap our way to Wu-han... then get a boat through the 'legendary' Three Gorges... I always wondered what those statues looked like... //

"Oi...Ash-Li... after we get to Fu-Ling... /then/ what?"

"Fu-Ling is still a /long/ way off..."

"Pah, nothing to it..."

"After Fu-Ling? We head /up/ into the mountains..."

"... Walking...?"

"I'm afraid so..."

"You're a cruel man..."

"You're welcome to stay behind... I'd understand if you were tired of all this..."

"And just /how/ would you buy your food without me?" Liet basked for a minute is smug superiority.

"I'd work, I suppose..."

"Oh..." He could find no fault with the calm reply, and shrugged. "It'll be faster and easier if I tag along... at least until I see this so-called historic city..."

"As you like..."

"I /do/ like... so hush up, /junior/..."

"Yes grandfather... what ever you say..."

********************

From Wu-han the recruited another tiny freight vessel, Ashley helping to collect and load the various local goods on their journey up stream to I-Ch'ang. The spent a day gazing at a gorgeous mountain lake, as the glided up stream only to be delayed a few days later by an unscheduled stop in a small fishing village. The boat's owner apologized profusely for the delay, explaining that some of the boards of the hull had begun to leak. It would take a few hours for the repairs to be made.

"By all means, fix the boat... /please/..." Liet had had more then enough of swimming in the wild river, and had no intention of repeating the adventure. He wandered around the small village as the boat was patched, surprised to find his partner following him like a shadow. "What's the matter now? Don't tell me you want to head over-land... it's much faster to just wait for the boat..."

"I know... I'm just walking... it's good to be on land again..."

"You /like/ walking, don't you..."

"Depends..."

"On what?"

"On if I have to carry you again..."

The gunman was about to give the boy a piece of his mind, when he was all but run over by a sprinting form from the village. He caught only the most fleeting of impressions as he hit the ground, dirty feet, a ragged cape, and a pair of remarkable blue eyes that stared at him from under the hood for a guilty, startled instant. In a flash, the villager was gone, vanishing into the thick bamboo groves that separated the edge of the settlement from the woods. Liet flailed for a minute before a strong hand caught his arm, helping him upright.

"What the hell was /that/?!"

"Thief, apparently." The gunman snorted at the bland drawl, then followed the younger man's gaze back to the village, a small crowd of angry house-wives and fishermen were heading their direction. 

"Wonder what he took..."

"/She/... and I think it was a fish."

They watched the angry men dive into the woods, brandishing sticks and oars. Several older men brought up the rear, moving too slowly to ever keep up. One wizened elder, staggered to a stop next to them with a grumpy sigh.

"That little monster... that's the eighth one this /week/..."

"Why do you say 'monster'...?" The guardian's mild question seemed to bring the man up short, he finger-combed his mustache with a nervous hand.

"The truth of the matter is, that the creature was born in this village... and has been a curse on us ever since. It was the mother's fault of course... Po was such a good lad. A good fisherman too. Then one day he comes back from the market... and he's brought home a /wife/... eight months later, he dies in the floods... they were terrible that year, and when his wife gave birth... it was a /monster/..."

"So you banished her from the village, because of a deformed child?"

"It's not just deformed! It's a /monster/..." Ashley's skeptical snort was ignored.

The assassin frowned at the story. "Maybe the mother died... the child must be hungry..."

"You're both addle-patted idiots... it's a /monster/ I tell you, it's the curse of the village. The sooner it goes, the better we'll all be..." The mob of fishermen returned in groups of twos and threes, grumbling at the phantom child and the lost fish. "Ah well, it'll be over soon... we've hired a /real/ hunter, up from Wu-han... /he'll/ take care of the foul thing..."

Liet gaped in shock as the old man grinned self-importantly. "You... you can't do that... that's..."

"Murdering a child will hardly cure your village of it's curse, Grandfather... You'd have a better chance of that by /feeding/ the girl." The guardian's voice was no longer amused, his entire posture radiating disgust.

"Ah, and which of us is the 'wise' elder... and which of us is the 'stupid-know-nothing' boy? Hmmm? Show some respect, outsider..." The assassin was reminded of the one time he had seen a mongoose face off against a cobra.

There was a long cold moment, then the younger man suddenly shrugged, capitulating. "So, when does your 'hunter' arrive?"

"Next week... Why?"

"And you're probably paying for both his time, and his transportation?"

"...Yes... what do you want, boy?"

"I could make you an offer... /I'll/ get rid of your monster, in exchange for the repairs to the boat... You can send your fishermen down river tomorrow, and tell your 'hunter' his services are no longer needed. Save yourself some money."

"You?! A hunter? Pffft."

"I am willing to offer a demonstration of skill..."

"Um... Ash-Li... what are you /doing/..."

"Not now, Liet..."

The old man sniggered, "well now... what a funny pair you are... you think you can earn your fame by defeating our curse?"

"I never said anything about the curse, I said, I will rid you of your monster." Ashley's smile was sharp.

"If you can do it /tonight/... then you can go, and there'll be no charge for the boat... If you can't..." The wrinkled grin was an unpleasant display of rotted teeth. "Then it'll cost you double..."

"bastard..."

"Deal."

"What?" The gunman looked at his friend in disbelief. "You /can't/ be serious..."

Bowing briefly to the old man, the guardian stalked back into town not stopping until he came to a small woman baking goods for sale. "Can I have six meat-buns?" Completely baffled, Liet paid for the snacks and tucking them into his bag, followed the quiet man back into the woods.

"This is crazy... you can't just kill a stray kid! I... I won't let you!"

"This coming from an assassin?"

"That's /completely/ different! Those were corrupt old men! This is a /child/... Ash?!"

The younger man pulled himself up onto a convenient boulder, then reached down to haul the hit-man up after him. "Relax, Liet. I have no intention of killing anybody... well, the old man is tempting, but not worth the trouble..."

"So what the hell are we doing?"

"/Warning/ her... and perhaps trying to find a few answers..."

Leit hefted the bag higher on his shoulder as he looked around at the shadowy trees. "How in sweet mercy are we going to find /anything/ here...?"

"Well... first we narrow down her location... then we make a peace offering..." Scanning the ground for clues only he could read, Ashley moved confidently onward, leading them further and further up the hillside. The way became confusing as more and more rocks littered the ground, their path taking them far above the small village. After a good hour's walking, the guardian came to a stop, looking around the small clearing with resigned acceptance. "Here... somewhere around here..."

"I guess I'll start a fire..." 

The afternoon hours went slowly, both men doing their best to look as calm and unthreatening as possible. The sat on one side of the cheery fire, the small offering of meat-buns were laid out on the other. Liet lazily fell to playing with his little shard of mirror, amused by the way it caught the light. He couldn't see what was so magic about it. His reflection looked just the same as it always did, a little rougher, a little harrier, but nothing special. The gift was obviously a joke.

// Ah well... at least I didn't waste anything on it... save my time... and that I have pleanty of... //

The youth was slouched against a nearby tree, idly peeling the bark off a twig. As he worked he whistled an oddly haunting tune. The assassin pondered breaking the man's concentration, curious about the song, but in the end he decided not to. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a slim brown hand dart out, claiming the top-most treat. Boredom forgotten, he nudged his companion with his foot. Ashley nodded in agreement.

"It's a pity those villagers are complete idiots..."

"I couldn't stay there another minute!"

"Still, the poor girl looked hungry..."

"And to think, we brought extra food incase we met her again..."

"It'll probably go to waste..." Another meat-bun disappeared into the bushes a little slower this time, and the guardian repressed a smirk.

"Somebody need to warn her about those villagers, though... They're really going to try and kill her from the sound of it." Liet watched the bushes carefully, and swore he saw a pair of eyes. There was no way to tell if she understood them.

"There's no way to help her if she can't be found... if they bring in dogs... it'll be over pretty quickly." The teen's keen ears picked up a faint gasp of dismay. The last three snacks remained untouched. He slowly stood, "Ah well, nothing to do but go... We tried..." The gunman stood as well, preparing to douse the fire.

"...wait..." A small voice came from the bushes. "...what do you mean 'dogs'...?"

"You can speak...?" The guardian quickly sank into a non threatening crouch, trying to pinpoint the girl's location. "That's more then I hoped for... We came to talk to you..."

"Nobody talks to me... only mother, and she's gone."

Ashley shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry that you've been alone... and I want to talk to you... will you come and sit?"

"I'd rather stay where I am..."

Liet decided to make an offering to the conversation. "If you come out... I'll gladly share some of this candy... He pulled a well concealed bundle of sweets from the bottom of his bad, shrugging guiltily at his partner's curious stare. "They've survived the trip all the way from Chiu-Chiang..."

"Where's that...?" The voice was stronger now, older sounding. The lure of sweets doing what bravery alone could not.

"Down river, several days down river..."

Moving hesitantly, Liet slowly placed the box of tiny confections near the fire before backing away. There was a quiet rustle of leaves, and then, moving in short skittish bursts, a slender form emerged from the woods. Arms and legs appeared well-formed in the fire light, but her head and shoulders were wrapped carefully with an assortment of shrouds. Picking up another meat-bun, she tucked it under the concealing cloth, and quickly finished it. "What are you doing here...? What do you want...?"

The Riskbreaker watched her carefully, weighing his options. "The villagers are going to kill you, unless you have the power to stop them...?" She hesitantly shook her head, and then turned to explore the box nearby. Using her claws daintily, she peeled the paper wrapped off the sweet, and swiftly popped it in her mouth. The assassin swallowed nervously at the way the curved edges caught the light. She was not a girl without defenses. 

"I want you to come with us..."

The girl looked up in alarm, "What?"

"I can't explain everything right now... but you can trust me... and I want you to leave this place, it's not safe here."

"And it's /safer/ with you?!" She was frightened now, and curiosity forgotten she edged away.

Ashley sighed in frustration. "I know what you are... I think I can help... but only if you come with me. I'll protect you, I swear."

"Swear?! Hah, swear by what...? If you say 'the gods' I'll claw out your eyes..." Her voice had a distinct hiss to it.

He considered the question and at length smiled. "I swear by my sword... and I swear by the Rood which was once mine and will be again. I will deliver you to a place of safety, a place where no one will terrorize you again."

"Um... Ash...? Exactly /how/ do you plan to do that...? We have a boat to catch... /remember/...?" Liet hated it when he was obliged to be the voice of reason. His worried comment catching the young woman's attention. 

"Yes, /stranger/... exactly how /do/ you plan to get me on your boat... The village will stone me on sight! Not to mention the sailors..."

Momentarily confounded, the teen paused, "We'll need to disguise you somehow..." The forest-girl began to laugh.

The hit-man scratched his head in thought. "Well, maybe if we get you a new dress, and a hat or something... we can just walk you to the boat tonight and nobody will notice."

"It'll take more than a hat to conceal /me/, never mind then... to hell with both of you, I can escape without you..." Ashley made to protest but was silenced with a bitter look. "I'm leaving..."

Digging his hands into his pockets, the assassin sighed in frustration, pausing as his knuckles grazed a sharp edge. It was the mirror. "Ow! Stupid piece of shit..." He fished it out and chucked it towards the fire." Both of the young people followed the shining arc with sudden curiosity, but the guardian moved faster. Scooping up his prize he turned it over in his hands, obviously startled. 

"Um... Liet... where the hell did you get one of these?!"

"That idiot friend of Mr. Goggles gave it to me... why? Is it valuable?"

********************

"This feels weird..."

"Just keep moving, the sooner you're in the boat, the happier I'll feel about all of this." Liet carefully herded his companion along the edge of the village, and towards the dubious shelter of the small ship. The repairs were complete, and the crew was slowly reloading the cargo. The large form at his side only slouched lower, obviously uncomfortable, and followed his lead.

"Will /he/ be alright... you think?"

"I've yet to see anything that could slow him down for long, he'll probably be in place long before /we/ ever set sail from this hole." It was uncanny, he was talking to Ashley, and yet /not/ talking to Ashley. The teen's voice and movements were all faithfully copied, along with his face and form, but it was all a charade, a costume of mirror shine made flesh. The girl moved almost guiltily through the town that had given her birth, head down and posture slumped. It gave the guardian a particularly downcast and defeated look.

// Almost like he had met the 'monster' and lost... that could be useful, except I have no intention of paying the repair bill for this... Ah well... she's doing her best not to attract attention... // They almost made it to safety, when a gnarled hand reached out and rudely caught the forest-girl's illusion wrapped arm.

"Back so soon? I knew you'd give up... Our witch is a sly one she is... I'll take the payment /now/ if you don't mind... since I'm sure you're an honorable man."

"...Pay...?" The question was blankly confused, and for a moment Liet was privately amused at how perfectly his companion unknowingly imitated the /real/ thing. Before her ignorance could get them into trouble, he stepped forward, neatly separating them and pointing her forward to the boat with a jerk of his chin.

"Gice up? Who said we'd given up? The boy here is simply angry that it was I who found the means to do away with the 'beast'... You'll find that after today, your monster will trouble you no more." He ignored the departing man's snort of amusement, and fixed the elder with a coldly disinterested stare. "As we've lived up to /our/ side of the agreement, I think you had better let us go... Don't you?"

"What? Where's your proof?" The smile was singularly unappealing. Idly pulling and examining a gun, the assassin raised a curious eyebrow.

"Proof? Who said anything about /proof/...? If you wanted it, you should have specified it at the time of contract negotiation. My hauling what was left of the ragged thing down the mountains was not part of the plan, and since it would have been tedious, and likely /dirty/ work... We left it all behind. If you want proof, go look in the forest, you'll find ample evidence that she is gone."

Fighting the urge to laugh at the stubborn old man's frozen dismay, he turned and trotted to the boat, climbing inelegantly over the side. It was five minutes work to ride the boat out into the river, and in under an hour, they had rounded the tight curve of the river, putting the small settlement out of sight. Liet bargained for a moment with the ship's captain, and eventually the wizened fisherman acceded to his odd request, steering towards shore again, and dropping anchor in the shallow water near a reedy bank. The crew watched, bemused, as the assassin and his friend went ashore, wading through the muddy water and disappearing into the bushes. For a nervous moment, the gunman was afraid it was hopeless, but a low whistle caught his attention and moving deeper into the bamboo he found what he was looking for. The guardian was lounging on a sunny boulder, waiting for them as if he never doubted their arrival.

The gunman sighed in relief, "There you are... for a minute I was afraid I'd lost you."

"Hardly. Was there any trouble?" He observed his Doppler with mild interest as he dropped from the tall stone shelf, landing smoothly in the soft dirt. 

"Nothing worth mentioning." 

His still-damp copy fumbled for a minute before retrieving the shard of mirror from a pocket. The forest-girl stared for a quiet minute into the shining surface before the artificially tall form melted away, leaving her in shroud and rags once again. "That's that then... so... what happens now?"

// I don't think I'll /ever/ get used to that.... bah... /magic/... // He kept from flinching as the blue-eyed glare was pointed his direction. Under her concealing face-wrap she was obviously frowning.

"...Well? It's not like there can be /two/ of either of you... and I don't know anybody else's face well enough to copy it in the mirror..."

Ashley frowned a minute, considering the problem. "You'd be better off with something closer to what you are... it'll take less of your concentration to maintain the spell... " He shrugged at her annoyed grumble. "I don't question your power, but you have to admit, your training is ragged at best... no, better to have it simple... Unfortunately, any faces that I remember well are obviously foreign... and I draw enough attention as is..." The guardian looked questioningly at Liet.

"What...?"

"Can you think of any nice 'normal' woman that she can imitate for a bit? A secretary perhaps? Or a neighbor?"

"...I never met my neighbors..." The image came almost unbidden to his mind, there was /one/ face he could easily fix on, had done many times before when he let his thoughts wander.

// Damnit... why did I have to think of her /now/... no use for it... although Gods know her face brought /her/ no luck in the end... // He hesitated only a minute, before shrugging blandly. 

"Yeah, sure, I can think of one or two women... but what good does it do? /She/'s the one who can make the mirror work... and it's not like I have a pencil or any talent at drawing..." He froze as the girl moved closer, firmly placing the mirror in his hands before covering them with her own.

"Doesn't matter, just concentrate on what she looked like." She closed her eyes, concentrating, and reluctantly, Liet did the same.

// ... Dark hair, large eyes, small chin... a rather ordinary face if taken in pieces... so why was it so special...? How was it those ordinary features became so beautiful when she looked at me... I remember the way she dimpled when she smiled... she never smiled enough... and less and less as time went on. // The assassin snorted in disgust at his still maudlin memories of the woman who had betrayed and abandoned him. // No, that's not true... not /betray/... She did what she thought she had to... and I was too /stupid/ to understand... overacting was all I was ever good at back then, /stupid/ kid... I didn't deserve her. //

Suddenly angry, he jerked away from the forest-girl, startling her with his energy. He heard a mild murmur of approval from behind, the guardian looking past him curiously. The gunman turned, meaning to apologize for his selfish reaction, when he really /looked/ at the woman now standing in the clearing. Pained surprised turned his words into a garbled noise that faded and died in his throat. Fidgeting nervously under the double inspection, his wife smoothed a dress of plain home-spun, and tucked a small shard of mirror into a pocket. She looked up, and the spell was abruptly broken as sharp blue eyes stared at him defensively.

"/What/...? Did I make a mistake? The mirror never shows /me/ any change, so it'd better be right..."

Ashley nodded thoughtfully. "It'll do... we may have to beat the sailors off with sticks, but it'll do. Now all you need is a name. Calling you 'monster' would be a little silly, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose..." She paused, uncertain. "My mother... she called me Peilei..."

"That doesn't sound Chinese..." Still rattled by the specter from his past, the gunman's comment was harsher than intended. He wilted under the double stare of annoyance from his companions. "...Well... it /isn't/..." Liet couldn't help but feel embarrassed as he followed the quiet pair back towards shore, wishing he had kept his traitorous mouth shut.

// You always /did/ talk too much around her... /nerves/... or something... /stupid/... // He shook his head, trying to force the memories away. // But /she/ is not my wife... she's a crazy witch-woman... with /claws/... Yes Liet... Do try to remember the claws, and mind your manners, ok? //

********************

It was remarkably easy to explain away the appearance of a new passenger on the small ship. The crew was either disinterested, or too grateful of the extra payment to risk any overly direct questions. Pei, as she had come to be called, made herself useful in hundreds of quiet ways, doing her best to stay out of the way of the workings of the boat. As they moved up river, the previous week's patterns gradually slipped back into place. Aside from the brief break, when they changed boats at the ancient city of Wu-han, the journey continued its slow pace deeper and deeper into the heart of China. The assassin resumed his lazy afternoons of fishing as the boat skimmed along the smooth sections of water, admiring the poetic scenery. It didn't take him long however to realize he had gained a shadow with the arrival of the forest-girl. Ashley had spent the first few days speaking earnestly to their new arrival, their soft conversations always just below the level of his hearing. It lasted only briefly however, the guardian gradually returned to the unmoving ennui that had plagued him before. By the end of the week he spent his unoccupied time dozing against the side of the bales of rice, eyes unfocused, attention turned inwards. Liet kept a cautious eye on the younger man, worried, but not knowing what else to do. 

"What's wrong with him... is he sick?"

The question caught him by surprise, and he turned to find the girl had settled beside him. Working quickly with needle and thread, she set about re-attaching a button to one of the sailor's shirt. He shrugged, uncertain how to answer"... Sort of... But like no sickness I've ever seen... It's like he's just /waiting/... This whole journey, it's not an 'adventure' to him, more of a necessary evil really."

"He told me we were going to a temple... he said they'd look after me there... that they wouldn't think me a monster..."

"They probably will..." The assassin looked at her thoughtfully. "He seems to know some pretty odd-looking people... I can't say, having never seen you, but I doubt you're any worse than the fellow with cat-eyes..."

"The one who gave you the mirror?"

"For all the good it did me? Yes, he's the one."

"I'd say it's done /me/ a great deal of good..."

"Well that's something then, isn't it..." It was odd to be speaking so peaceably with the girl when faced with her new appearance. Strangely, the intimately familiar features were transformed by the personality behind them. Rather than his wife's invisible barrier of pacifism and traditional etiquette, there was a spark behind the odd-colored eyes that seemed to remake her into someone entirely new. It was not an unpleasing transformation. They fell into a new pattern as the slow journey progressed, randomly talking about anything and everything in order to pass the time. Peilei taught him a trick of catching fish with nothing but his fingers, and in turn he told her all about the towering cities to the east. The days slipped by along with the river, each in smooth succession until they came to a bend in the river, and it revealed the mouth of a wide, glassy lake.

The change of scene seemed to bring the guardian back to life. Watching his younger friend stand, truly alert for the first time in days, the assassin couldn't help but feel a little suspicion of foul-weather ahead. But the man said nothing, staring curiously over the empty water as if searching for something, or standing watch against it. As if picking up on the teen's tense mood, the ship was abnormally quiet for the remainder of the day, even Pei's humming a muted presence as they slipped silently across the water. As dusk approached, Liet finally gave up any pretense of understanding what was going on, and decided to ask.

"It's just a lake... Right?"

"Sure... it's a lake..."

"So what's the big deal...? You're almost as jumpy as that time back in Nanjing..."

The guardian frowned slightly, trying to put his instincts into words. "...There's something here... or rather... it's /always/ been here... but usually it sleeps..."

"Sleeps? /What/ sleeps?" The assassin watched his friend warily. "What aren't you telling me...? Are there more ghosts out there or something?"

"Ghosts? No, not ghosts... it's very much alive... although I've only seen it once..." Ashley shrugged, "Do you know what a 'construct' is?"

"What, like a building?"

"Don't be silly." A prim voice at his elbow almost made him jump, and he shot Pei an exasperated look. "What...?" She smiled archly before adding to the conversation. "A construct is a magical 'thing' isn't it? Like when mages make themselves a pet gargoyle or something?"

"That's one example yes... but they're not limited to small pets... some of them... well there was once a group of mages who lived above that lake... a /long/ time ago... before /my/ time, anyway... and when their little kingdom was threatened, they decided to build themselves a guardian god... a creature so fearful that no one would ever dare attack them..."

"You're joking right?" Liet received a sharp jab in the ribs for his comment. The forest-girl was now watching the water avidly.

"What was it? a Dragon?"

"No, dragons are real, they live and die as we do... if just on a slightly larger scale. But this thing... it just /is/... when their war was over, they put it to sleep, down at the bottom of the lake, so deep no one would find it..."

Still skeptical, the gunman shrugged. "If it was asleep, how come you've seen it before..."

"I saw it because some fool was crazy enough to try to wake it up... You have no idea how hard it was to make that thing go back to sleep..."

"What, you didn't kill it?"

The look was long suffering, "People always ask me that... they never seem to realize the logistics of killing something that size are not as easy as you might think... No I didn't kill it... I didn't feel like wasting the time it would've taken to find a sword long enough... not to mention I haven't the slightest of what I'd have done with the body."

"...Leave it?"

"And pollute the lake?"

"Hmmm you have a point, just /how/ big is this thing anyway...?"

"You've seen ocean-liners, right?"

"No way."

Ashley simply shrugged. "It was the marvel of its time."

"And you're saying this thing is /awake/...?! We've got to get the hell out of here!"

"With any luck it won't even notice we're here... and we're almost back into the river... it can't fit in the narrower channels..." For an almost hysterical moment, Liet contemplated the idea of a cruse-ship sized monster hopelessly wedged in-between the narrow walls of the river's cliffs. He quickly dismissed the image of its absurdly floundering flippers and took a deep breath. It took some effort to keep himself together.

"So... we cruise along, quiet as mice... and you keep an eye out for sea monsters..."

"Lake monsters."

"Whatever."

The assassin deliberately refused to watch the scenery after that, settling himself against the small deck house and taking a long nap. The crew continued to work quietly, guiding the boat into the relative safety of the river long after night fell, unwilling to pause on the lake. Shaken awake in the odd half-darkness of the moon-lit night, Liet found himself pulled to the rail by small urgent hands. His muttered grumbles were met by a chorus of whispered 'hush'es, and startled, he fell silent, joining the rest of crew at the side of the boat to witness an impossibility. 

The moonlit water sparkled balefully in the darkness, and at first it seemed a mirage, a dark island rising out of the depths. The smooth curve gleamed as no granite boulder ever could, a hint of massive scales apparent even from half-way across the water. He held his breath as the dark form rolled in the water, and revealed a glowing amber eye roughly the size of an elephant. He couldn't suppress the shiver that raced down his spine, and was relieved to hear he wasn't the only one. There was a collection of murmured oaths from the rest of the hardened sailors as they stared at the ancient mystery. They were safely tucked in the shallows beyond the body of the lake, but it was with a definite sigh of relief that they steered further into the channel, leaving lakes and leviathans behind. Letting out his held breath, the gunman looked down to notice that Pei had nervously attached herself to his arm, face pinched from their close encounter. He gave her a little shake and almost smiled as she pulled away, blushing.

// What a strange night. //

In the empty expanse of lake, the massive beast completed another lazy circuit of the cold waters. The unblinking crimson eyes colored the darkness with mindless territorial vigilance.

********************

Liet dusted the drying mud off his pants with a long suffering grumble. The small boat had dropped them off at its last stop, still a good fifty miles from Fu-Ling. He looked un-enviously at the steep curve of the road as it left the village and curled around the edge of the mountain. The likelihood of finding a truck or a fart heading out of the small fishing town was slim, and with its 'freight' yawl already well up-river on a trade-run, their options were few. They could either wait until the boat's return, try and buy transport over-land, or start to walk. He checked the slim sheaf of bills still in his pocket, and the weight of the bag of coins under his jacket. The trip had not been /that/ expensive, but they were starting to reach the end of their resources. One look at the guardian told him their next move with out even having to ask. The assassin laughed lightly.

"I'll go see about getting us some supplies..."

"I'll help." Pei gave their silent leader one last curious look, but the man never took his eyes off the mountains. With a shrug, she scooped up her make-shift pack and followed the gunman into the village. 

The road was just as unfriendly as it looked. Someone must have tried to pave it at some point, or was someday planning to, as there was a thick and rather painful layer of sharp gravel sunk deep into the now rock-hard mud. The usually curious girl walked grimly, head down and focused, her new shoes protected her from the poor roads, but there was nothing to protect her feet from the shoes. Uncomplaining, she walked on, the three of them forming a ragged line as they hiked over and around the broken landscape. Mountains that seemed so scenic from the river proved a test of patience and endurance to a traveler on foot. There seemed to be a bit more traffic on this road however, in the distance Liet could just make out the trundling form of another group of travelers a ragged group of men and a cart pulled by a tired-looking bull. Once they were even passed by a quickly moving government car, and were obliged to shield themselves from the painful sting of the kicked-gravel.

"Someday... /I'm/ going to have a car... and /then/ I'll find that jerk.. and Run Him Over..." The annoyance of dodging the roaring vehicle had rekindled the forest-girl's energy for a short moment as she stood fuming in the road. "Didn't they see us walking here?! I've got half a mind to... to... to turn them into prawns!"

Ashley looked at her for a baffled moment, then began to quietly laugh. Startled by both the outburst, and the reaction, the gunman could only smile amazed at how far he had come in the past months. The still grumpy woman stamped her foot in irritation. 

"What? What's so funny?" The guardian only laughed harder, giving up any attempt to keep walking.

It was much later that they staggered into another small village, hoping to find someplace eat and rest. The road lead straight through the small town, and then turned sharply, ducking over an ancient stone bridge and continuing on the other side of the river. The village seemed quiet at first, old fashioned in a way that only mountain villages thousands of miles from industry could be. However, as they walked into the center, Liet found the silence unnerving, it was too quiet, the houses stood empty and abandoned. Any question he might have uttered was caught by the teen's stern look, and he unconsciously reached for a gun. It seemed natural to hook one of Pei's arms, guiding the girl into the marginal cover of his shadow as the guardian eased a sword free from the ragged pack on his shoulder. Sunset glowed in shades of pale peach through the quiet streets as they moved forward. There was no longer any interest in staying in the place over night. The gunman twitched his shoulders nervously, some of the guardian's sensitivity seeming to rub off on him. He couldn't help but flinch however when they approached the start of the bridge and found the wrecked remains of the army-jeep that had passed them earlier that morning.

Ashley had no qualms about investigating the bent metal. The moment's suspicions abandoned, he walked over the broken glass and plastic with care, he peered in and around the car before casually levering the small trunk open with the edge of his sword. The vehicle was unsalvageable and missing both passengers and luggage, but the repair kit was easily liberated, as were random parts from the engine and interior. At first, the assassin simply watched, confused, then understanding began to dawn and he moved to help. In the country they were walking into, a working car was worth more than an entire village's yearly earnings, and parts were valued at a premium. Liet was working quickly to salvage the bolts on the hub-caps, when he accidentally dropped the tire-iron with a loud clatter on the stone road. Wincing at the noise, he worked faster, making the most of the fading light. He never noticed how his companions had slowly stopped what they were doing. 

There was one house in town, set back from the others and positioned right next to the old bridge. It had probably once belonged to the mayor, or some other government representative. Across from where they worked on the car, it had seemed as abandoned as the rest of the town, but now, under the forest-girl's watchful eye, something stirred in the darkness. Her hiss of alarm drew the Riskbreaker's attention, and he blindly finished packing the stolen sparkplugs with his eyes focused on the distant door. The gunman continued to work, swearing softly as he banged his thumb in his haste. 

"Shut-up, Liet..." The hiss caught him by surprise, and he finally caught on to the tense mood. Standing slowly, he was just in time to watch the old wooden door swing outwards, pushed by a massive dark-colored hand. He was torn between wishing for more light, or less. Their position was horribly exposed, but the long shadows of the buildings only made the old houses spookier. The giant-sized arm proved to be attached to an equally massive chest. Man-like, but only barely, the creature squeezed out the door with some effort, stooping low and shuffling like an ape. Its head, and entire body was covered in a shaggy filthy coat of dark fur, and the face, crowned by a pair of curling horns, was anything but human. Pei moaned in denial, almost tripping over herself to retreat into the shadows. The teen remained as cool as ever, standing a few feet in front of them both as if shielding them by drawing attention to himself. There was a flicker of recognition in the boy's eyes. Not able to look at the creature's ugly face, Liet tried to focus on something else, and was immediately sorry that he had. In the monster's other hand was the remains of an arm and hand; the sleeve still attached. With horrified awe he watched the hairy thing study them myopically, then lazily bring the mutilated limb up for another mouthful. It crunched easily through flesh and bone with a snap of the massive jaws. 

The guardian took another step forward, uncaring of the creature's smell or snack. Impossibly, when the teen opened his mouth, it was like no speech he had ever heard before. The troll, for Liet could think of no better word for it, seemed equally surprised, and stopped eating in order to listen. After a moment it waved the man to silence, putting back its head to produce a barking-laugh.

"You talk good, Man-thing, so I talk too. You smart, Man-thing... more than ones before... they only talk man-talk... doesn't matter. Man-things made for eating, not for talking." It shook its shaggy head like a wet dog. "Me Grel! This /my/ place now... many good eatings here!"

"How did you get here, Grel? Your kind have been long extinct from this place..." Ashley watched the beast blink uncomprehendingly. "No trolls here, Grel. Grel's home, where?"

The twisted goat-man grinned. "Walk. Walk many days... Smelled good smells... Smelled man-things... Found dizzy-place, and smell stronger, found /here/. This /my/ place now..."

"So you've said..." The guardian's dry comment went unheeded as the troll observed them closely.

"Some of this place man-things ran away... but Grel good hunter, caught some... then car came... But tomorrow, Grel hungry again." It showed a smile with a great number of sharp yellow teeth. "You Grel breakfast!"

Liet blinked in alarm and brought his gun up. He had no idea if a bullet would even be felt by the massive creature. // What is it with things wanting to /eat/ me?! Aren't human's at the /top/ of the food-chain? //

"Not food Grel... Grel go /home/ now... This is man-place, not Grel-place."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Casting aside the well-chewed arm, the troll howled in anger and charged the teen head on. For such a large animal, its speed was amazing. The gunman was able to get only one shot off at the beast and it went wide. Incredibly, the guardian had moved out of the way of the crushing arms, bring his sword to play with a cruel cut along the side of the creature's face. Not wasting the younger man's distraction, Liet sprinted to gain a better position, bringing his gun to bear as he moved. It almost worked. The troll was hardly fazed by the scratch, but it was enraged, Ashley ducked another swing and scored a hit, but his foot slipped on a piece of loose gravel at a critical moment. Swearing at his misstep, he was hauled bodily into the air as a fist closed around his neck and tossed toy-like straight into the gunman's path. The assassin caught the sprawling body full in the chest, and they went down in a painful heap, his head knocking the paving stones sharply. The teen was doing little better, struggling to get himself upright while gasping for air. 

"S-sorry about that... old man..."

The gunman was content to lay still a moment, trying to blink he stars from his eyes, but an angry shriek got him upright again. Pei was defending herself the only way she knew how as the hulking beast drew closer, throwing first the tire-iron, then a sharp rock, then herself at the stubborn attacker. Illusion forgotten, she clung to his head like a wild cat, raking at its face frantically with inch-long claws, trying to blind or at least injure. The troll bellowed in pain but it took precious seconds to pull the girl free, flinging her with ease into the side of the building.

"Pei!" The guardian was back on his feet, and in considerably better shape. Blood was flowing freely from cuts on his chest and forehead, but he still moved with deadly intent, closing with his target before the beast could fully turn. He drove it back with a series of heavy swings of the blade, forcing them onto the old bridge. Unable to risk taking a shot, Liet staggered woozily over to the fallen girl, hoping she was better off than he was. She was slowly pulling herself up, cursing fluently as he offered her the hand that wasn't pressed against his throbbing head. Pei gingerly accepted, her claws delicately scraping his already abused hands. Her usual cloak had been knocked free, and for a confused moment, he had a glimpse of a smooth snake-like profile and the hind of scales and horn. He tried to dismiss it as a symptom of his likely concussion, there was no such thing as lizard-women after all. Hurt considerably less by her fall than he was, she quickly pushed past him, breaking into a limping run to reach the bridge. Following her, he winced as Ashley caught another powerfully swung hit across his chest. The force of the blow lifted him easily, and to their horror, dropped him over the edge of the bridge. 

For a silent moment, Liet could only stare at the empty spot on the stones that his friend had previously occupied. Every panting breath from the injured but still /very/ agile monster echoed in his head like a roar. 

// He's gone...? We're over two hundred feet above the water... even if he didn't land on rocks... Oh god he's gone... that means... // He swallowed grimly as the troll turned around slowly to face them, its tiny eyes gleaming.

"No nono... This isn't happening..." The forest-woman, seemed to quail a little at the sight of the shaggy form. 

The gunman swore roundly at himself as he pushed his dizziness aside and opened fire. A surprising number of shots landed well, rocking the creature back and opening wounds along its head and chest. The skull was simply too thick it seemed, and for all the damage it was taking, it seemed unready to die. Discarding one empty gun as useless he drew his second from a pocket, already knowing it was hopeless. His only chance would be to get the creature in one of its beady eyes. As questionable as his vision was, it was simply out of the question. Sensing its attacker was running out of energy, the troll turned and charged again, stamina unabated. 

"Look out Liet!" The warning came in plenty of time, but his tired body simply couldn't respond. He stood dumbly in the path of the enraged monster, watching in a daze as a heavy, clawed-arm swung down at him. He closed his eyes.

// This is it... //

And the opened them as an unholy yell began, not a foot from his face. The troll's form was bent back convulsing painfully as its body looked to be wracked with the equivalent of 10,000 volts. The gunman was bemusedly reminded of the one time he had watched a building get struck by lightening. Pei had latched onto the outstretched arm, the only part of the creature still stationary, and she held her grip with an expression of singular determination. Or as determined as any lizard had any right to look when it was applying mage-lightening to a target at point-blank range. He took a moment to really /look/ at the woman, her true features illuminated by energies flowing across smoking beast, and found that they really weren't all that bad.

// That's the knock on the head talking, old man... Tomorrow... if you live that long, you'll be shaking so bad they'll think you're having a seizure. // Still there was something rather elegant about the way the bronzy scales shimmered in the white light, and the sharp alien planes of her face had a certain grace about them. His mind ignored the hint of needle-like teeth with practiced ease. As for the rest of her, it seemed normal enough, more scales to be sure, and claws, but nothing, nothing /terrifying/. // I've completely lost it... // He continued to stare, even as she let go of her now rigid foe. The troll fell down bonelessly, smelling strongly of burnt fur. She nudged it with a toe.

"It's... still alive? Impossible..."

Liet looked from the panting woman to their enemy, tired mind refusing to cope. "... Toss it in the river?" 

"... try and find something to tie it with... something it can break or chew through..." The voice was faint, and obviously in pain. It was also originating from somewhere over the side of the bridge. Finding energy he didn't know he had, Liet trotted to the low stone railing, peering into the darkness in disbelief.

"...Ash-Li? Are you alive down there?" It took a few minutes for his eyes to pick the guardian's tattered shape out from the general darkness, but the younger man was there. He had somehow caught himself on the bridge's supports, and now rested in relative safety on a narrow ledge, his legs dangling over the edge of a several hundred foot drop into the Yangtze River. Ashley had an arm pressed close against his chest, doubtlessly supporting several bruised or broken ribs.

"Surprisingly, yes... I forgot how fast those bastards are... you two alright?"

"... Yes... I think... Pei just turned into a snake-woman and electrocuted the thing with a touch... is that normal?"

The teen attempted to laugh but stopped as it put painful pressure on his ribs. "For a mid-level demon? Quite possibly, try not to let it worry you... just go find some chain or heavy wire or something... and hog-tie that thing before it comes-around..."

"Got it..." The forest-woman was already moving quickly through the buildings searching for anything the could use, but there was little to be found. They met in the main square, out of breath and desperate.

"Nothing.... you?"

"Nothing..." Staring at her hopeless sigh, an odd series of memories triggered. Thinking of Pei reminded him of the mirror... which reminded him of...

"The /string/! Idiot! I completely forgot!" Digging through is bag in frantic haste he pulled out the last two of the odd gifts, stuffing the bullet in a pocket as he fumbled for the shiny thread.

The forest-woman watched his antics in disbelief. "... How is that going to help..."

Excited, he gave her an end. "Don't complain, just /pull/." It felt silly at first, the two of them yanking on opposite ends of a small thread, but just as he began to doubt, the charm began to work. Pei fell backwards with a thump as the string grew, her end coiled in her lap as a slender rope.

"I'll be damned." They worked together to quickly stretch the rope again, each tug making it longer until they had a generous coil of the smooth stuff. Liet inspected an end curiously, but the material gave no hint as to its construction. He refused to think too hard about it, gathering up all he could carry and tripping back to the bridge. The well-cooked troll was regaining strength in the pre-dawn light. It had flipped itself over and was trying to crawl to the relative safety of its 'house'. Pei kicked it savagely as she dropped her end of the rope and began to efficiently lash the animal together. It was slow work to make sure the ropes were tight, but as they sat back, they were pleased at how well it held together. 

Tired, Liet tottered over the edge of the bridge again. "He's trussed up like a roast pig... but we couldn't find anymore rope to haul you up... Any ideas?"

"Yeah... wait an hour or so... and then you can get your rope back..." The gunman blinked at the cryptic instructions, then shrugged, and settled by the wall to wait. After a long moment, the forest-woman slid down next to him, pulling her knees up into a tired curl. They didn't have the energy to speak, and in truth, he didn't know what to say to her.

The sun rose slowly creeping over the rugged hilltops to spill gently down into the shadowy river gorge below. Liet woke from a restful doze, and blinking in disbelief, watched as their hostage fidgeted one last time, then froze, a frosting of gray quickly covering the shaggy body. Within seconds, the creature had transformed entirely into stone. Heaving himself to his feet, he moved closer, disbelieving. The gunman lay a hesitant hand on the now cool and hard fur, amazed at his bravery. Solid rock, the statue made no move. "Incredible... is it dead...?"

The demon woman had wandered closer, watching him from a healthy distance, and simply shrugged. "Looks solid enough... who knew..." The gingerly slid the rope free of the knots and stone and set about knotting it into a rough sling. It took a few minutes to rouse the dozing guardian, but after a hair-raising period of heaving and sweating, all three were safely on the bridge once more. Ashley looked at each of them worriedly, but found no injuries more serious than his own. He then moved to examine what the sunlight had wrought. 

"You should've gone home, Grel..." With a shrug, he turned back to the small town and staggered to the bubbling fountain, beginning the long painful process of cleaning up. 

********************

The misty morning was much like the previous five, the twisting fog causing the sunlight to bend and shiver in odd patterns through the trees. The gunman watched his breath steam in front of his face, and idly pondered how unnatural it all seemed. They were walking in a forest sunk into the clouds. It didn't feel a proper place for humans at all. He looked over at Pei as she wandered nearby, gathering berries from a thick mass of bushes. Her hair was slightly mussed, a wavy dark mass tucked over a shoulder. If he hadn't known better, he have sworn the reptilian scales and wild magics of the week before were just a nightmare. She picked her way back to the path, quietly dropping her carefully gathered hoard into his hands before starting over again. A short distance ahead, the guardian walked slowly, still favoring his damaged ribs.

// He needs to rest... and see a doctor... not that I'd trust the old geezers out here, most of what they do sounds more like witchcraft than medicine... but rest couldn't hurt... //

Both he and the forest-woman had tried to convince the teen to pause, to take a much needed break from the grueling hike, but the boy was obstinate. The pain only seemed to drive him harder, something in his eyes brighter than ever before.

"Ash-Li... come eat something."

"...Not hungry."

"Then hold up a bit while /I/ eat... Pei and I are tired..."

"Then stay here..." The reply was gruff.

"You're being unreasonable! And /ungrateful/... sit down for a minute, youngster... we'll follow you gladly, but we won't get there /today/..."

Hesitating a moment, Ashley's resolution wavered and he slowly turned with a rueful smile. "... You're right... I'm sorry... we'll rest a while..."

The chill of the morning was burned off easily by the bright sun, and with the departure of the mist, the forest slowly came alive. They cheerfully picked at the berries and the last of the rice-cakes as insects hummed around in the still-dewy air. The dark haired youth claimed his small share and finished it quickly, gingerly resting against the trunk of a convenient tree. A small smile played over his face as he stared up into the dappled shade of the branches. Liet watched in fascination as a small gray moth fluttered around the tree, circling closer and closer to the man as if drawn to candle-light. Looking around, he realized that more and more of the curious insects had been appearing in the past week. He inspected one as it landed on his bag. It was almost pretty in the early light, furry in appearance, with glistening white wings. A second and third moth had discovered the reclining guardian, and they joined their fellow in happily fluttering around him in lazy patterns. 

Ashley seemed to slowly become aware of the aerial acrobatics around him, and stared around the clearing, bemused. With a gentle hand, he reached to catch one of the fuzzy creatures in mid air, bringing it down for inspection. What he saw amused him. The insect seemed perfectly content to walk the length of his hand as he studied it, the ghost of a smile lighting his face. At last it flew off, startled at his light chuckle.

"... Snowflies..."

"Snow?"

"Yes, you ever see it?"

"Only in pictures... They're called Snowflies because they're white? I've never seen them before..." Liet prodded his tiny passenger with a finger, causing it to flit off in alarm.

"They're quite rare, I suppose... They 'foregather where the Dark runs deepest...'" The quote sounded peculiar, and he didn't grasp the reference. The teen merely shrugged, not explaining himself.

"Funny little things..."

"...'Dark'...? Hei-an?" Pei's voice was confused. "But they come out in daylight as well..."

Ashley chuckled again, thinking better of it as his ribs complained. "Different sort of 'Dark'..."

Gathering up their bags, the started down the road again, determined to reach the final stop in their journey. Several tiny white bugs fluttered after them, seeming to be caught in an invisible breeze.

The ancient streets of Fu-Ling has existed since the days of the earliest empire, and their worn beauty was no less welcome for it humility. Peaked roofs and stone guardian lions seemed to be everywhere, decorating even the most ram-shackle brick houses. The narrow lanes wandered in odd disorganized patterns over the hillside, dipping at last into the river below. Having been named the groups un-official spokesman, Liet contentedly lead the way into the maze, just as wide-eyed as either of his companions. If not for the ever present red flags and communist propaganda, the town would have seemed like it never left it's golden age. He half expected warlords in chariots rather than military vehicles to come trundling down the street.

It was a simple enough decision to take the money remaining after supplies were bought, and splurge on a night at one of the better inns. They would have little use for it where they were going, and oddly, none of them were willing to talk about what would happen 'after'. Getting there was all that mattered. The gunman soaked for a long time after Ashley had pulled himself out of the water and sought his bed. He sat in the hot bath, thinking about the mountains, and fate, and quests, and the blue eyes of a particular girl who was not a girl, nor truly human at all. There were no great revelations to be had, but then, he hadn't been expecting any. Finally pulling himself out of the tub, he staggered to bed, and dreamed of the home from his childhood; a house with a fountain, near a grove of mulberry trees. The smell of the fresh blossoms stayed with him well after waking. 

Pei woke up from a curious dream where she had caught a fish with rainbows for scales, and the face of a wizened old man. It had bartered for it freedom, and had given her a pair of pearl earrings.

When asked, Ashley confessed he had dreamed of nothing at all.

********************

The forest was becoming older as they climbed. Barely a day away from the old town, it was as if they had fallen off the edge of the world. They were lost in a bizarre fairy land. There was barely a path leading where they were going. The village awaiting them barely had a name, much less any need for the outside world. It lay in a graceful bowl of a valley seeming half-way between here and /elsewhere/. The snowflies gathered in small swarms now, swirling with the mists much in they way their namesake did in the northern mountains. The assassin shivered with chill despite the relative warmth of the day, and judging by her worried expression, the demoness also felt the tingle of magic. The air hung heavy, and vibrated strangely in the lungs. In the long dusky shadows, things stirred just beyond the veil of trees, strange soft grumbles and footfalls could be heard. Mysterious lights were lit and then extinguished. The guardian walked on, uncaring of the other worldly feel to the woods, his feet never straying from the all-but-invisible path. They moved in silence, two of them too awed to speak, one as quiet as it had always been his nature to be. Pei made no attempt to continue scouting as it grew darker still, and even Liet's mental self-assurances that the village must be close, didn't help to keep him from jumping at shadows. It was with faint relief that he felt a smaller hand slip into his, and he gave the girl a supportive smile, only realizing later that it was already too dark for her to see it. They walked on.

The gunman's anxieties were wound so tight, that when the attack finally came, it was almost a relief. Ashley had stepped into a narrow stream, well in the lead as they picked their way through the brush, when a sudden bright light had erupted from the water, throwing him back several feet. From beneath the suddenly turbulent water, emerged a floating specter, reminding Liet whimsically of the stories he was told as a child. It was said that drowned fishermen would often choose to haunt water ways, their affinity with the element slowly transforming them into something more. The creature in the stream stood like a man, arms and legs vaguely shifting in the mist, but there was also the hint of fishy fins, scales, and a tall hat of reeds. It would have been fascinating if it hadn't been encountered in the middle of a haunted forest late night. Pei was too practical for such musings, swearing softly under her breath as she moved boldly forward. Her victory over the monster on the bridge had inspired confidence. Nearby, the guardian staggered to his feet with a quiet groan, sword ready in one hand as he braced his chest with the other.

// There's no way he'll be able to fight at top form like this... if those things are half as broken as I bet they are... he'll probably puncture a lung. //

It was an instinctive reaction to pull the last hand-full of shells out of his pockets and ready a gun. The shots had little effect on the insubstantial form, but the path of the bullets, and the way they momentarily scrambled the ghost, seemed to distract it, allowing the forest woman the chance to get closer unmolested. Using what small magics she could muster, she began to attack the creature, causing it to wail in dismay. At first it retreated, but then reversed course wrapping the woman in a column of water. Ashley hissed in worry as his sword slid uselessly through the phantom; the blade's edge only meant for more mundane things. It lacked either silver or sorcery to make the blows count for more than simple irritation.

Pei flailed inside her watery prison, her enraged scream nothing but a choked cloud of bubbles as she struggled for freedom. Liet grimly calculated how much longer it would be before she began to drown. His fingers desperately grasped the last of the bullets in his pocket, and he blindly chambered the gun. For an insane moment he pondered shooting the girl where she hung suspended, ensuring that at least one of them had a quick death. He swore softly and fired at the specter again, counting each of the bullets as it vanished into the night. When he reached two, something odd occurred. The gun snapped as it always did, his muscles tensing for the critical moment to make sure the shot went true, but the bullet /glowed/. Arcing through the darkness like a tiny comet, the projectile struck the phantom in its elongated head and unlike the dozen or so of its predecessors, it /rocked/ the creature, sending it flailing backwards and clawing at its wound. The demon woman was unceremoniously flung free from the water, coughing and sputtering sharply. They watched in surprise as the shimmering creature melted back into the darkness, still moaning in dismay.

"... So... It wasn't a dud after all..." Ashley's dry commentary jarred him out of his amazed immobility and he bit back an annoyed curse. Moving as a pair, they hoisted their wet partner to her feet and all but carried her as they scrambled down the last hillside and into the waiting town. 

********************

He had very few memories of the village itself, aside from the blankets and the crackle of the fire as he drifted to sleep. It wasn't until the following morning when they departed that he got a good look at the tiny settlement behind its tall stockade. Odd curling script and symbols adorned the wall at regular intervals, the eye could hardly travel three feet before encountering another magical ward. Even more strangely, everyone in the small commune seemed somehow 'gifted' as if to be born in the village meant to be born a mage. Liet idly wondered what the government would do if it ever found out about such a place. Judging by the lack of travelers on the path, it wasn't too serious a concern.

// Besides, from all I've seen, having an army full of mages would likely be akin to herding cats... grumpy, ego-maniac cats... //

They headed up into the trees again, and burdened as they were by the small relics given by the village, found themselves largely unmolested. The path grew more and more obscure, until it finally occurred to the gunman that there was no path at all. Ashley was leading them by instinct alone. By mid-afternoon of the second day, they came across the base to a cracked and broken staircase. It looked to have been carved out of the granite of the mountain as it wound /up/ twisting clear of the trees and around the side of a cliff. Pushing thoughts of avalanche and wash-outs aside, Liet took a firm grip of the forest-mage's hand, and gingerly began to climb. By the dusk of the second day, they had arrived. He stood at the gates of a temple in the clouds; on the verge of a miracle.

********************

********************

Vocab: (what you think I /really/ know any Chinese?! pfffft! ~ Thanks Fish! ~)

Shiao-zi :: boy (rude)

Shiao-huo-zi :: boy(friendly)

Hei-an :: 'dark' as in night or shadowy, NOT as in Dark... ^_^ hence Ashley's chuckle.

Mo-sheng-ren :: stranger, an unknown person

(Ta-) ma-de :: "Damn it"

Don't we feel smarter now?

Notes: Ah, End-Game... thy name is "FINALLY! SWEET MERCIFUL ANCESTORS!" Hehehehe, so yes... what to say about this... it's long. No kidding. You stuck with it this far (bravo) so why not go a little further? One more chapter to go kids! Will we make it? /Sure/ we will! I've been itching to write for Sydney again ^_^. I'm still suspicious that I should've broken this in half, but then I thought... if people don't like this part of the story, better that they only have to skip one chapter rather than two. So Liet's quest ends, or rather the part where he plays center stage does... Not that he ever was the focus for this adventure, but it seemed more fun at the time to tell this bit of the story from a non-Ashley point of view (even if I did slip once or twice). The next chapter is all A-kun though, so away we go! Stay tuned! for Next chapter! 'Journey's end in lover's meeting!' 

Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare! And thank you discovery channel for your documentary of the ancient towns along the Yangtze that will very-soon-now be bulldozed in favor of new dams and hydro-electric plants, the photography and maps are entirely to blame for this little odyssey. 

--Lunar.

PS - Because I'm a 'legend' geek, the "Land of Nod" is supposed to be the Asian equivalent to the Atlantis myth, go fig, I just felt like throwing it in.

[http://roodinverse.dreamhost.com][1]

   [1]: http://roodinverse.dreamhost.com/



	8. It aint over until the lady sings.

****

Looking for the Lost: part 6

An AU Vagrant Story fanfic, warnings for: everything, I think... shonen-ai, violence, language, and angst of Shakespearean proportions.

Sydney: ... are we /there/ yet?

Lunar: Oh God I hope so...

*************************

__

Soft blue horizons   
reach far into my childhood days   
as you are rising   
to bring me my forgotten ways   
Strange how I falter   
to find I'm standing in deep water   
Strange how my heart beats   
to find I'm standing on your shore   
(Enya -Watermark- On Your Shore) 

The caresses alternated fiery then chill, causing the hair to stand up on his neck and arms. Like a teasing lover, the sensation was both pleasant and annoying in the extreme. Ashley resisted the urge to flinch, or sneeze. He was glad that the room was nearly pitch-black, he wouldn't have to hide what he was sure was a most un-Ashley-like expression. It was all he could do to keep from laughing as the Dark twisted kitten-like around his ankles and purred familiarly in his ear. It had remembered him after all.

// ... Here kitty kitty... //

The whispering non-stuff was radiating mischievous delight as it tugged at his hair, snatches of childish laughter, prayer-song, and low growls rising and fading almost too fast to identify. He slouched as comfortably as he could against the wall, ignoring the other tense auras in the room and letting the energy flow around him, craving it as a drunkard would yearn for spirits.

// ... there are spirits.... and then there are /Spirits/... // 

Beneath his closed eyelids, random images were presented and whisked away, memories, dreams, prophesies. It was as if the Dark in its childish way was trying to show him all that he had missed since he had last communed with it; a proud toddler showing off the fruits of its labor. Most of it made little sense, butterflies became palm trees, fighter planes morphed into dinosaurs who were in turn devoured by bright colored locusts. For a breath-taking moment he saw Léa Monde in all its splendor, the tall intact golden towers and Grand Basilica reaching into the blue sky as hundreds of blue and white banners snapped in the crisp breeze. Almost imperceptibly the scene shifted again, and he stared at the sweeping sprawl of the Vatican with its gold crosses and tile roofs. Before he could express his surprise he was swooping down at an impossible rate, passing wrath-like through stone buildings and then below the paving stones. For the first time since he sat down in his corner, he felt a touch of dread and tried to pull his thoughts away.

// No, not that... I don't want to see that... //

__

~ look ~

// No... // It wasn't like he had a choice, eyes open or shut, the sight was inescapable and he waited nervously as he was drawn deeper into the ancient maze of aqueducts and crypts that honeycombed the holy capital. He wasn't even sure /what/ he was afraid of, but his mind balked at the idea of going further.

__

~ remember ~

// It hurts. // 

The feeling of movement came to a sudden, lurching stop, and he looked around at the impromptu arena of toppled pillars and walls. Far above his head, the masonry began again, undoubtedly supporting a busy street of innocent Romans going about their lives. To his left, propped forlornly against a broken pile of rock, a battered skeleton lay in repose, its bones long ago picked clean. The skull was a massive affair, too large for a human by far, and half the ribcage looked to have been crushed, or /clawed/, to pieces. Recognition came far too easily for comfort, facts slowly bubbling to the surface of his ever-unhelpful subconscious.

// Murue... His name was Murue... // 

Suddenly certain of what he was looking for, he scanned the room again, this time noting the burned and even half-melted rock, and how the center of the room seemed to fall away into the level below. Morbidly peering into the crater, he hissed in alarm at the flash of steel at the bottom. The blade was in pieces. Splintered like broken glass, shards of deadly silver were scattered in a loose arc, showing the path of their destruction. At the end of their trail, the largest fragment remained attached to the blackened hilt, an unrecognizable mess. Ashley blinked, trying to reassemble the events he was being shown. 

// But that's /my/... //

__

~ you were here... ~

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. // It was here... wasn't it... //

__

~ yessss ~ 

Ashley was about to reach down and reclaim the damaged pommel, but it -and the rest of the scene- dissolved. He stood in the midst of a nauseating swirl of color, light and sound, the sheer pressure of sensation driving him to clap his hands over his ears and close his eyes in protection. It helped, a little. 

There was no up, no down, no possible point of reference. 

This was a realm of noise and motion. Everything was shifting all around him, playing havoc with his equilibrium. Vainly attempting to focus, he grasped for something, a thought, /any/ thought; anything to hold back the chaos threatening to over-take his mind. The distraction almost proved too much, but just as he was about to scream in frustration, something flickered from deep inside, a flash of gold and gray. Clinging to it like a lifeline, he slowly, meticulously brought the memory closer, staring in wonder as he gradually reclaimed one sense at a time. First came sight, a gut wrenching moment of déja vu as he stood once again on the beach. The sinking sun colored everything with a flare of ethereal tangerine. Each of the gentle wave crests was glossy with it. He stood at the shoreline, but further up on the dryer sand Sydney had finally set aside his book in favor of the view; looking almost as if he had caught fire in the waning light. The pale hair and skin had an almost divine glow about them from the reflected rays. His hair formed an outlandish halo as it was tossed by the stiff breeze. 

The Riskbreaker blinked back the sudden foolish urge to cry, and when he gasped for air, the scent of brine came on him all in a rush, leaving him feeling both dizzy and cleansed. The smell of the /sea/. He sucked in another lungfull of the cold air and lifted his face to the breeze, feeling it for the first time as it stung his cheeks with salt and sand. Ashley looked down, and wiggled his toes in the wet beach, marveling at the texture. A wave came in with a gentle roar, its bubbly froth rising over the tops of his feet, and chilling his ankles. He waded higher onto the shore with a laugh, surprised to hear the familiar sound.

"Tide's coming in..."

"I can see that, whelp."

"Come up by me then... lest it sweep you away by accident!" 

The knight grinned at his lounging lover, and found no need to shout a reply. He retreated to the blanket, stepping over a mound of seaweed. 

He set his foot down on nothing. Opening his eyes, he found himself back in the seething, senseless hell he had all but forgotten for a critical moment. Ashley clutched the memory to him with desperate strength. There was no way to tell how long he had fallen, how long he had dreamed. The Riskbreaker smiled grimly. He had done the impossible, somehow, even in chaos, he remained sane. So long as he didn't let go of the spark in his hand, he might stand a chance of remaining so. He looked down at his feet and then straight ahead. There were no roads here, there was no need. What came here, /stayed/ here. To think otherwise was to expect the impossible, but then, impossibilities were what Riskbreakers were all about. Ashley carefully took a step, and then another. The slow, mentally grueling process became no easier with repetition. Closing his eyes against the madness, he let his feet guide him; carrying him out of the abyss. All around him, chaos shifted and hissed. It was the roar of the sea.

*************************

"I still don't get the whole 'locking them in a tomb for the night' thing, I mean, /really/ meditation drills - ok, fasting? I'm not a fan... but fine, general chores and such? Well /someone's/ got to tidy up the place... and who can say no to a bit of martial arts practice... But what the hell will an over-night vigil down /there/ accomplish..." Liet shuddered sympathetically. "It's just creepy if you ask me..."

"Ash-Li didn't seem to mind..." 

"No kidding... I think the instructor was more afraid of /him/ then he was of going into the tomb... Am I crazy? Or are they really /jumpy/ around him..."

"A little of both, I think." The woman smiled placidly at his irritated look, cubing the last of the vegetables before flicking them into the wok. They were guests, but in the temple everyone did their part. 

"/Oh/ ... So I'm /crazy/ now, am I?" He almost kept the smile out of his voice. He had gotten out of practice.

"Always were... but you're right. If they're not afraid, they're certainly... hmmm... cautious?" Pei nodded to herself. "Yes, 'cautious' is a good way to look at it. Although they're friendly enough with us." 

The retired gunman pondered the new angle as he poked the rice, allowing the sharp woman her due. "...So they're jumpy... but /why/...?" He slouched against the wall. "I mean... he's not normal... but then..."

"...Neither am I, and they like me just fine."

"Not to put too direct a finger on it? Yes." 

The demoness shrugged, out of ideas. "I wonder what it's like down there, it must be so /dark/... I wouldn't like it..."

"That makes two of us."

*************************

Apprentice Master Shu Lao had been overseeing the training of initiates for more than twenty years, but he had high expectations that this would be the worst. So far the Goddess hadn't disappointed him. Rubbing an arthritic wrist he prowled through the empty halls, grimacing at the still-cool morning air. Several staircases down and at the end of a dark passage, he came to a heavily barred and warded door. The latches released with a smooth click and let a spill of torch-light enter the room beyond. Six pairs of nervous eyes immediately fixed upon him with a sigh of relief. 

"It's dawn, the trial is over... Come along then... let's get you breakfast, then to bed." His murmured words of comfort fell on appreciative ears, each of the young people scrambling upright and fighting stiff muscles to make their eager way /out/ of the small room and its unnatural aura. The Dark grew lazy with daylight, Shu Lao could sense its moody musings. It was as familiar as the stones around him, but the feel of it was different this morning. The sense of focus was disconcerting. He carefully counted heads as the novices ducked past him and frowned as he came up one short. Catching the last boy by the arm, he asked the necessary question.

"You, where's the new one? The foreigner?"

The novice simply shook his head, not knowing how to answer. The monk grumbled slightly, shooing the youth away before moving the torch further into the room. Curled into the corner -unaware of the light- the seventh novice sat unmoving. He swore softly. It didn't happen often, they were very careful in selecting which of their students made it this far. Every precaution was taken to be sure that only those the Dark favored would be exposed, but exceptions had been made, and now he felt certain he was witnessing the result. 

// Such a waste... I /knew/ it would turn out badly... He couldn't take it... The shock... it must have destroyed him. I /told/ them. I told them it was too soon, too rash! But they were determined to prove their 'pet theory'... reincarnation indeed... And the other young ones will be scared, months of work to redo... What foolishness. //

Telling his tired bones to stop their complaints, he set the torch in its crevice, and moved to investigate the corpse. Sensing his upset, the remaining energies slowly bled back into the floor and walls, but they were strangely reluctant to retreat from the quite man's corner. 

"Go on, you've had your fun... leave him be so I can see what you've left..." It retreated at his gentle scolding, and he slowly crouched down next to the huddled form. What he found startled him more than he expected. Far from being contorted or stiff with fear, the man looked peaceful, almost happy, his breath a faint but steady hiss. Ashley was fast asleep. He shook his head in wonder before extending a hand to prod the novice gently.

// Miracles... bah, I'm too old for this nonsense, and just look at him... sleeping like an infant... //

"Oi, Ash, it's morning lad, you slept through your bloody trial... come on, your breakfast is getting cold."

The youth had the decency to come awake with a start and stare up in confusion. "Is it? I did?"

"Did you... feel /anything/...?" The old man was baffled, never had he ever encountered someone so undisturbed by the Dark. He had seen tears, shock, fear, alarm, and among the truly gifted there was at least /some/ disquiet. There was nothing but sleepy amusement in the warm brown eyes.

"Odd dreams... and odder memories..." Ashley stood up, "Breakfast you said? Good, I'm starved."

Lao allowed himself to be helped upright, and grumbling still, followed the boy from the room.

*************************

"Now concentrate on your candles... it may take some time, remember focus! and control! Feel the energy /flowing/ through you..."

The small class bent to comply with their teacher's wishes, each staring hard at the battered lumps of wax on the floor in front of their mats. For several minutes nothing happened, and then the candle on the far end exploded. The single female novice blinked at the smoldering remains of her exercise, and smiled sheepishly. Ashley, sitting the furthest away, was spared most of the light rain of warm wax, but two of the other boys gave up any attempt at meditation to shield their heads. The candle was replaced and the drill began again, this time several of the wicks began to smoke optimistically. Bored, the Riskbreaker picked his up, and studied it.

"Is something wrong, Ash?"

"No sir, just thinking, that's all."

"Well, think after the lesson is done, for now... you have a candle to light!"

Ashley looked calmly at his peers. A second candle exploded. "... Just how long do you expect this lesson to take, sir?"

The older man shrugged. "Most students can figure it out in a few days..."

"And the ones who finish early?"

"They get assigned other duties until the class is ready to proceed."

"Ah." He set his candle back on the floor with a decisive tap. Holding his hand over it for a moment, he pulled on the familiar currents around him, and snapped his fingers. Flame blossomed from his fingertips, igniting the wick with a cheerful yellow glow. He stood carefully, dusting off his robe. "If you need me, I'll be sweeping the steps."

Six pairs of startled eyes followed him as he quietly bowed and left the room. Their instructor simply stared at the small light, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

*************************

It was odd how some things became easier to remember while others remained elusive. Ashley methodically worked his way down one of the many staircases, flicking leaves with gentle strokes from the broom. When he had first remembered himself, there had been a moment -an achingly short moment- when he had remembered /everything/... He had known without question who he was, and what he had done. The man paused his work, looking back at his progress with a sigh. The feeling hadn't lasted for long, had possibly never existed at all. By the time he had regained consciousness under Az's watchful eye, he already felt a little confused about it all. In the months that followed, he had plenty of time to test each fragment of memory, feeling for the inevitable holes.

// Like holding sand in a leaky bucket... Maybe people just aren't meant to remember more than one life... //

But he /wanted/ to. Grimly returning to his work, he concentrated on his own, peculiar style of meditation, driving his mind back further, and further into the past. He started with the newest ones, slowly trying to reconstruct the events piece by piece.

// Rome... That's where... // He couldn't help a small shiver but it only firmed his resolve. // That's where I died. But why? // The vision the Dark had granted him helped a little, providing a solid link, a trigger to pull other memories free. He concentrated on the image of the shattered sword, feeling certain the connection was there. In a burst, it came to him, his head rocking back with the force of the memory.

*************************

There was darkness, but that was nothing, familiar. There was the sound of Murue's panicked breathing, but nothing could be done about that either. The half-blood would have to look out for himself. There was another creature breathing in the darkness, and /that/ sound set the hair on his arms and neck to standing upright. Signaling his guide to silence he sunk into a low crouch, sending the Dark ahead to be his eyes and ears. The construct was /there/, pacing the large room ahead with swift, measured steps. Its long claws rasped along smooth stone, leaving broken bits of marble in its wake. The creature was enormous, already old enough and wily enough to escape its prison on holy ground. 

// Fools... /damned/ fools... What have you done... What have you wrought? //

It had no human intellect, that would have been pointless. Cunning, speed, and instinct served the scaled beast well enough. It would feast upon the weak denizens of the underground, learning the tunnels, growing strong. When it was ready -when it was too late for anyone to stop it- it would come to the surface. Ashley needed no oracle to see what would happen then. No, it had to be stopped now, but it wouldn't be easy. With a second silent wave of his hand, he signaled retreat for the moment. There was something he wanted to prepare, something impor-

*************************

The youth came back to himself with a lurch, surprised to be sitting on a half-cleaned staircase in the warm afternoon sunlight.

// Wait... where's the rest?! // He grimaced, closing his eyes to try and regain the lost thread. There was nothing. 

"Shit."

Still feeling a little disjoint, the Riskbreaker slowly resumed his sweeping, waiting for his equilibrium to return. Around him, the Dark muttered and twittered lazily, driving the snowflies into excited whorls of white. He gave up on the memory, knowing that it would remain out of reach for the moment. There was something about that beast in the darkness. Even in the bright sunlight he felt cold.

// So that is what death feels like... // 

He shook his head, dismissing the idea. // Before that, then... what happened before...? // The process was remarkably like fishing. The guardian grasped the beginning of each memory and focused on it, trying to lure others out of the blank spaces in his mind. Every now and again he would find pieces that fit together perfectly, but it wasn't often. 

// Murue... Murue was there... he was one of my informants... he came all the way to England... to tell me something was wrong... the churchmen had something chained in their basement... something /hungry/. I /knew/ it would be bad... //

*************************

Sydney was at the dock again. The little pier was a recent and rather pretty addition to the curved shoreline. His blonde was perched out on the end, feet dangling in the waves, brooding. He watched the windswept hair for a moment before glaring at the innocent looking little skiff moored to next to the mage. It had been a bad idea to bring it here, but the cultist had insisted and so here it remained. The craft was a tangible reminder that something had changed in this changeless place. 

// It's been /years/... it's not like they were ever close... by all accounts they hated one another... // Nevertheless, it had been /Sydney/ that the woman had asked for when she began to slip away. It was Sydney who had returned days later, pale and silent. The mage had brushed off his questions, uncharacteristically somber, and curled quietly into his lap before burying his face into the knight's shoulder.

"Shhhh... it'll be all right..."

"She's gone, Ashley... she's... she's just gone..."

"I know."

"She said... I could have her things..."

"You always wanted to get your hands on her library..." The attempt was weak, but understood. The prophet relaxed in his arms and gave him a tired smile.

"So I did... "

Frowning at the memory, Ashley walked out along the dark wooden deck, settling quietly beside his mage. "Talk to me..."

"Hullo, Ashley." The gray eyes twinkled with calm amusement. "Here to mother me again?"

"Why come out here when it only makes you depressed?"

"I'm not depressed. Just /thinking/, 'tis all..." He ignored the Riskbreaker's doubtful snort, studying the small boat once more. The Grecian vessel was rather out of place when compared to the Northern European coast. At length, he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper. "Do you think she's happy...? Where she is now..."

The knight let out a worried breath and pulled his lover into a loose embrace. "Who can say... yes, probably... Livia was a woman who always knew what she wanted."

"But why did she go? I don't understand... There must have been /something/... Maybe if I-"

"Stop that, stop that right now." Ashley tightened his hold in frustration. The cultist would invariably begin to blame himself if allowed. "I really don't think she even gave you a second thought when she decided it was time to go... I think... I think she was just tired, that's all."

"Ever my prosaic Riskbreaker... Thank you, love. I needed that..."

"What, the kick in the seat of the pants? Any time..." He grinned to show he wasn't serious.

The blond rolled his eyes and leaned back further into the warmth. "What would I do without you..."

"Congratulate yourself on the peace and quiet, no doubt... speaking of which... I had an interesting visitor today... from Rome..."

"/Really/? What ever for?"

"He had some news for me... looks like something worth checking out."

"It's been a while since you went to Italy... maybe you can get that tan back, hmmm?"

"You're so /odd/, whelp."

"But you love me, right?" 

"Aye, that I do." The lustrous gray eyes slid closed as he bent down to claim his kiss. There was more, he had meant to say more, but suddenly it didn't seem the right time. The cultist was already worn from work and worry, it wouldn't help matters to add to his burden. Besides, if he knew, he might take it the wrong way. Ashley didn't feel like starting /that/ fight quite yet. Biting his tongue, he pushed the idea to the back of his mind, burying it deep. He would keep his own council. He was the RoodBearer. It was his right.

*************************

"Ash-Li..? Oi, anyone home?"

A gentle hand on his shoulder almost made him jump. Liet watched him with worry. "Uh." He blinked, feeling worse than before. "I'm... I'm ok."

"You were just staring at the clouds... I called you... but you didn't seem to hear..."

"Sorry, I was... thinking." The ghostly smell of sea salt remained in his nose. He felt more than a little ill. "I think I need to sit down."

His friend joined him on the warm stone, watching the afternoon patiently. The gunman raked a hand through his graying hair and studied his companion again. "You're really serious about this whole... 'become a monk' thing... aren't you..."

"... does it bother you?"

"No! No... it's just that you've seemed so distant lately, more even than before... It's like... I don't know, ignore me, I'm being stupid."

Ashley turned and offered a small smile. "No, it's alright. I understand. Things are just sort of difficult right now..." He paused, trying to think of a way to explain. "Do you believe in reincarnation, Liet? /Real/ reincarnation? Not coming back as a tree or an ant, but as yourself?"

"I've never much thought about it, to tell the truth..."

"Sometimes I think... I'm going crazy. But then, lots of people used to say I was crazy, so maybe it's a good thing..."

The older man frowned again, not following the stilted conversation. "You're trying to say... you've been alive before...? But how do you know...?"

"I get these... /flashes/ I guess... memories, they're /mine/... but... /not/ mine. Or rather... if only I could get enough of them in one place, I /know/ I could see the whole picture, and I'd remember... and everything would make perfect sense again."

"I don't understand."

The youth shook his head, dismissing the mood. "Don't worry about it. Everything will sort itself out soon... I just have to be patient..."

"That's my boy... Now, how about I help you finish these steps?" Questions deferred for the moment, Liet kept a close eye on his friend as he cleared the stones. Something was going to happen, he could feel it in his bones.

*************************

The small office was crowded with the elders of the temple, many there to speak, other there simply to listen. Shu Lao sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The topic was a familiar one, the same as had it had been for the last several months. 

// The /boy/... no, he's really not a boy... not a child at all... young, and not young. Wise and yet still... there's a confusion about him. A disturbing puzzle, if you ask me. // 

And several /had/ asked him, his opinion had a fair amount of weight. Who else had spent more time with the stranger? Only Master Sougi had more to say, his supreme rank and abilities as a Seer giving his words special power. For all of the steely old man's assurances, the group was worried, and rightfully so. What was happening, what was about to happen was unprecedented.

"He's not one of /us/! We are betraying our sacred trust!"

"We gave our /word/... We are the protectors!"

"Hush, children... I know your fears... I'm not saying that anything should be done in haste... No, all I'm saying, is that we should not make a decision unfairly."

"Those who seek the Dark, cannot be trusted with its secrets." Shu Lao's calm voice chilled the room; the other priests falling silent.

The old prelate nodded his head in agreement. "Well spoken, old friend. Those who seek power for power's sake, are not of us... but did you really think his purpose is to gain strength?"

"You are the Heart Seer, Master. If you say he is worthy, then I must believe, I have already." He wished he could share the man's quiet certainty, but the risk was simply too great. For centuries they had guarded their burden so carefully, and now... to allow an outsider so close. If they failed now, there would never be a way to undo the mistake. The Dark would be loose in the world, servant to the strange vagabond who had found his way to their hidden gate.

// That in itself was an omen, I suppose... No one has ever come here who has not been here before. But he did. Maybe the spells grow weak. // He frowned, knowing it was not the case.

"We will put it to a vote then, all those in favor of allowing Ash-Li to meet with the Bearer for judgement, raise your hands?" The elder counted quietly. "And all those opposed?" Shu Lao regretfully raised his hand along with a few others. They were in the minority. 

"Very well, tomorrow, Ash-Li is to be presented to Master Teo... see that they are both prepared." Sougi rose unaided, and bowed politely to his flock before vanishing in a silent swirl of shadows and glitter.

// Tomorrow... // The Apprentice Master stood following the others from the room. // But are we doing the right thing? We must leave it in Teo's hands... and I pray he is... decisive. //

*************************

The Rood Bearer was by both tradition and real measurable strength the most powerful and influential member of the temple. He was also the most helpless. It was by historical standards a recent development. Once upon a time the Bearers had been the wisest, benign messengers from a caring goddess. They had been their hope, their spiritual leader and the chosen of the gods. To be named successor was the greatest of honors. But every novice knew the teachings of Buddha. For the great sage had said, no thing can last forever, not even bliss. Everything must change, the world abhors stasis worst of all.

So it could be said that temple's greatest treasure was not hidden in a vault, or in a shrine, but in a small room; clean and well lit. Old quilts and blankets hung from the walls and lined the floors. While minded vigilantly, they took no special pains to guard him. Day and night, a select handful of monks knelt in pairs of two, one next to the small cot, the other just outside the door. On the bed, withered and fretful, their burden slept. His face twitched and hands flailed, but there was no escape from the nightmares haunting him. Only when he was awake was there a measure of calm, a gentle lunatic; those were the good days. 

Master Teo was growing old. 

More and more often he would come only half-awake, screaming and tearing at invisible enemies, cowering in corners, and when he could escape his wardens, down into the hallways to scare the novices. They were lucky that his abilities as a sorcerer were the first things to fail after his wits. Had the priest been able to lash out with more than his bony fists, the temple would have collapsed long ago.

Master Teo was growing old, and would die soon.

The temple would need to name a successor, choosing from their bravest and strongest a suitable candidate. It was a great honor. It was a greater sacrifice. After all, Master Teo had not always been mad.

The old man whimpered painfully, bandaged hands attempting to scratch at his face. His nurse leaned closer with a soothing murmur, catching the narrow wrists and coaxing them back against his underfed chest.

"Tomorrow, Bearer... tomorrow... be strong..."

There was no telling what went on in Teo's dreams, none of the seers had ever dared to look. For his part, when he was capable of speech, the nonsense words from his cracked lips often held no meaning at all. Where he walked when sleeping, he walked alone.

*************************

"Can I come?" Liet honestly didn't expect a 'yes', but the sheer alarm in the young priest's gaze made him feel guilty for even asking. "Never mind."

The youth continued his recitation to Ashley, swallowing nervously. "... when presented to the Bearer, you will kneel, but not too close. You will not speak until addressed, and then do it slowly, tell him your name, your birth name... He may try and speak to you, do not interrupt him. He may try and touch you..." The boy hesitated, nervous once again. "... it may feel... a little odd. He probably won't, so don't worry." The words were meant more to reassure /him/ then to comfort his audience.

"I understand. I'll be ready."

"...No one's been allowed a meeting with the Bearer, not in years... it's very important that you don't excite him... not when it's so close to the time of succession..."

Ashley simply nodded, escorting the messenger to the guest-house door. He caught himself of the frame before leaving, and gave his two traveling companions a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Liet echoed the word in farewell. With a sniff of dismissal, Pei started pulling blankets from the chest.

*************************

// Well... this is strange. //

He hadn't been sure what he had been expecting. The Bearer's presence, while not a secret to the temple's inhabitants, was noticeably absent. The man himself was never spoken of as an individual, was never seen, was never mentioned at all save in a quiet hush. After being carefully escorted into the small bedroom, Ashley began to see why. 

The Rood Bearer was a madman.

Wrinkled and rather sallow from prolonged periods indoors; the ancient looking man had been bundled into an almost sitting pose, bolstered by a mass of pillows. Although his eyes were open, it was impossible to tell if he was aware of his surroundings. The Dark draped and curled around him in thick snake-like coils. The guardian could hear it easily, so close to its master. The babble of energy and senseless chatter was almost worse than it had been in the crypt below. He gathered his shields about him to ward off the worst of the distracting whispers.

// How could it get this /bad/? What the Hell happened here? // With a little patience and luck he was about to find out. One of the older priests leaned closer to the catatonic man.

"Bearer...? Teo...? Can you hear me? We have brought you a novice... for judgement... Will you look at him?" The hollow brown eyes flickered aimlessly around the room for several long minutes, settling everywhere /but/ Ashley's place on the floor. Then, as if by chance they slid over him, and /stopped/.

Feeling the full weight of the Dark's attention was unnerving at the best of times, but to have it peer at him through the nominally human face was definitely unpleasant. The younger man remained perfectly still, refusing to let his discomfort show. A gentle cough reminded him of his duty.

"My name..." He paused, torn between one truth and another. "... My birth name is Mason Donnelly."

The dark eyes blinked, confused. For another long moment, the only motion in the room was the delightedly swirling wild energy, and the hiss of the elder's breathing. The old eyes blinked again.

"Riot."

The guardian rocked back slightly as the unexpected and gratifying recognition. "Yes. Riot... What has happened? Where is Sydney? Müllencamp...?"

The first name drew no response, but at the sound of the second, the wrinkled face crumpled into an almost canine wail of terror. There was something sadly pitiful about his broken sobbing and it was almost instinctive to try to approach and comfort the old man. Ashley was blocked however as others reached the priest first, trying to shield him from any additional excitement like anxious mothers coddling a newborn. They didn't seem to be doing much good. Uncertain what he was planning to do, he pushed his way through the small crowd until he was kneeling at the old man's side. Like instinctively seeking like, a withered hand crept out to him, and he captured it in a gentle grip. As abruptly as it began, the crying stopped.

"..It hurts... you know... rather more than anticipat- antici- antica-" The fragile voice gave up with a huff, but the face was alive with honest awareness for the first time that morning.

"What happened...?"

"... She... /She/..." The priest's eyes went entirely white as they rolled back in his head. He seemed to be trying to fight some sort of fit. It was several minutes before the shaking stopped, the hand gripping his clinging to him like a lifeline. "Things change... people change... but the Dark remembers..."

"What about /Sydney/..."

The tired eyes focused on him again. "...'Sydney'...? I do no know any 'Sydney'..." Ashley felt his muscles go slack with despair, sinking into a slouch on the floor. The old man patted his hand gently. "...I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault..."

"... No... The Dark... it is..." He began to shake again. "The Dark has chosen... it says..." Teo smiled in confusion. "It says... 'No refunds on damaged goods. All sales final. Limited time offer?'"

For a stunned moment, Ashley could only stare. The words were understandable, /unbelievable/, but understandable. He smiled. The Dark hadn't lost its sense of humor.

"Yes. I accept."

"See flier for details..." The old man slumped down, exhaustion taking its toll. "... Remember to read disclaimer..." 

"Master Teo?"

"He's dying?"

"He's /dying/!"

"...But the successor?!"

"We're /staring/ at him you fool!"

"/Hurry/!"

The guardian wasn't allowed time to react, pulled from the room by two of the stronger priests and all but dragged down a narrow hall. "What the Hell?"

"Fool boy! There's no time! You must be secured!"

"/Secured/?!"

// I suddenly don't like the way this is going. //

// "...remember to read the disclaimer..." // He frowned as heavy manacles were fastened around his wrists. // I suddenly don't like this at all... //

*************************

Ashley didn't have long to worry at his uncomfortable situation. The final 'click' of the metal cuff on his ankle echoed oddly in the suddenly still room. Lifting his head in surprise, he felt a wave of nausea at the way the walls tilted and warped. For a surreal minute he found himself capable of staring through one of his captors and at the texture of the wall behind the man. Cloth, then skin faded away leaving a hint of vaporous innards, a cloud of red, and then the solid, steady lines of the granite blocks of the building. He blinked, and the straight joints began to bleed black. The inky liquid was laughing as it spilled /upwards/ stretching in glutinous strands up onto the ceiling over his head and then /down/. The Riskbreaker had been in no position on his first Succession to give much of a report on the feeling of joining with the Dark. It had been so far beyond anything he had been prepared for that in the end, the impressions had been fleeting, blurred by a shocked sort of haze. Standing with his years of experience, and Mason's admittedly wider vocabulary, he felt the first touch of the heady power. It reminded him of nothing so much as sticking a finger into an electric socket... and leaving it there.

He was uncertain if he screamed. His mouth was open, but any noise he could've possibly made was drowned out by the roaring all around. Fragments of every sound he could name; car horns, blenders, bird song, Mozart, laughter, the steel-on-steel of combat, even his fourth grade teacher's droning monotone. Despite the din and confusion, he recognized many of the instants of memory, they streamed around him and against him and through him, each a grain of sand pouring like water down from some unseen fount above. Opening his eyes, he found the effect was also visual, the sight a dizzying prospect. It was impossible to focus on any particular moment, the kept coming in a torrent until the merged into one, an all consuming brightness that pulled him out of his body, and sent him /elsewhere/.

*************************

Shu Lao released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding when the young man's body went suddenly lax, tense muscles releasing all at once to let the novice crumple into a heap. The priest was only a young man when his friend had undergone a similar initiation, but witnessing the shift of power was still an unpleasant task. The young man had almost looked as if he would be torn apart, each joint rigid, each tendon in high relief as he was filled by the chaotic energies. There was no knowing whether the process was agony or the opposite, his expression could have been either. It didn't matter, when the boy awoke, he'd most likely be broken. The old priest gently checked his protegee's pulse and temperature. Master Teo had been no mere novice, and look what it had done to /him/.

// Poor boy... poor, brave, /foolish/ boy... //

One by one the other elders filed into the room and settled on the floor. They would sit vigil for their new Bearer, it was their duty.

*************************

__

~ Do you remember? ~

"Remember what...?"

__

~ You. ~

"Do I... remember /me/...?" It was hard to think, hard to speak, hard to even remain aware, much less put words together sensibly. He grumbled at the persistent pressure in his head, wishing it would leave off and let him get his bearings.

"Yes... you. Get up Ashley... Get Up, we have no time!" Between one heartbeat and the next the Dark's voice shifted, no longer bodiless, or voiceless, but real and very close. 

"/Get UP./" He opened his eyes, and immediately closed them again. 

// I'm not going crazy, I've done this before... I'm not goi- // Strong hands grabbed a hold of his shoulders and shook him roughly. Relenting, he opened his eyes, pushing the helping hands away.

"You..."

"Go ahead and say it... although it probably won't make you feel better..."

"...You're /me/?!"

Ashley glared at his unwelcome counterpart, and had to acknowledge, if it was a trick, its execution was flawless.

"... Not quite." The Rood Bearer sat on his heels, the familiar black-leather long coat falling in soft, well-worn folds over his shoulders and down his back. Ashley looked down at himself in grim curiosity, noting he was still wearing the robes he put on that morning. A hesitant hand went unconsciously to his smooth shaven scalp. Bereft of even his short style, and his hard-won 'tails', it felt as if it was not his own.

"...We've done this before... haven't we...? A long time ago..."

The large man raked a hand through his hair in a tense gesture. "So you /do/ remember..."

"I remember talking... to myself... to /you/?"

"No, not me... I'm the result of /that/ though... we were fragmented..."

"As opposed to /now/?"

The man grinned. "No, very similar in fact... except for /this/ time... we did it to ourselves..." His expression fell. "Well /I/ did, anyway... you just get the job of picking up the pieces."

"Oh joy."

"We haven't got much time... we have to get it together before the unification completes..."

"...or what?"

"Or each of us gets a partial-ownership of the Dark... and we go stark-raving mad."

Ashley closed his eyes and choked on a bitter laugh. "Delightful." He glared at himself. "Was I always this much of a fuck-up? Or does this story have any high-points...?"

"Don't get cheeky. I did the best I could... you don't understand...but you will. You have to... hmmm... re-absorb me... and the /other/ one... although he will be harder I think."

"Reabsorb...?" The guardian blinked. "You mean... you're not real?"

"Memories only, I'm afraid."

"... and the other one?" He looked around the otherwise featureless white space. "Where is he?"

"Hiding I think... he's... rather afraid of me... unfortunately."

"I'm afraid of /myself/? This is crazy..." 

The older man sighed and knelt next to him. "Perhaps 'tis so... but you have little choice... Do you accept me?"

"Do I /what/?"

"Accept me, boy, as a part of you..."

"Will I remember?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

The Riskbreaker smiled enigmatically. "That I think, is up to you."

"Very well..." Ashley sat up straighter, looking the man he used to be straight in the eye. For the first time he realized just how /old/ his predecessor looked. The face was still smooth and sharp, but the warm brown eyes were filled with shadows. "...I accept you." Moving in smooth symmetry, their hands met fingertip-to-fingertip. The brush of physical contact was nothing compared to the almost audible snap of spiritual connection, two parts of a whole, long separated, fusing back together. Alone in the nameless dreamscape, the guardian gasped against the shuddering pressure of a immortal lifetime's worth of experiences.

// I remember... //

Instead of disjoint scenes of his past, he could see arching sweeps of /pattern/, people. places, /reasons/. The jigsaw puzzle pieces were falling into place, settling in a swirl of color, falling autumn leaves on the temple staircase. 

// The temple... //

He remembered sparring with young novices along the long courtyard, showing them the tricks to staff and spear. He remembered before that, the buildings half-finished, as he magicked and muscled the larger stone supports into place, /building/ the sanctuary from the ground up. He remembered an even earlier time; driving his horse hard, the sweating animal easily catching the battalion of soldiers before the first arrow was shot. The Imperial troop's faces were uniform in their wonder and disbelief as he put himself bodily between them and their quarry. The haggard and travel weary group of monks staring at him like a savior.

// I remember Sydney thinking it was absurdly funny... me... setting up a temple to Müllencamp... Hell it /was/ absurd... but also practical. It seemed like a good idea at the time... having a sanctuary. //

Thoughts of the blonde mage only opened up another flood gate, time moving forward instead of in reverse. The reasoning voice was as smooth as silk, even when caught between the sights of a cross-bow. The blood-flecked smirk was almost painful as the same mage dove gracefully out of the fourth floor window of the Duke's chapel. It was a different smile all together that greeted him in the blasted remains of their second church. Bruised, pale and wounded, the look of wonder was unmistakable as he had bent and shielded his new teacher from the falling rock and tile. That same look, so rare, as they sat together in the tall grass. He held the fine-boned face almost reverently in his too-large hands, each chaste kiss placed with exquisite care as the blonde whispered three mad little words over and over, clinging to his shoulders with desperate strength. Ashley mind bounced quickly searching again, and again, each time calling up another rare instant of that achingly perfect look. The one reserved just for /him/. All to soon, he had come to the end and willing the pain to come, he forced the memory to the surface. 

*************************

"...Ashley...?"

The blonde was nearly dumbstruck, staring at him in horror. Staring /through/ him in horror.

"Oh Ashley, what have you /done/?!"

"... I died, whelp. It had to happen eventually..." He was distracted from his lover for a moment as the goddess faded into view with a shimmer. She did not move to interfere, rather stood a little ways off, lips tightly pressed. Müllencamp would respect his last wishes. She understood, even if she did not enjoy the fact, that punishing him was futile. He had already damned himself. 

He spared a brief nod to her, all the homage he had time to pay, and returned his attention to the shivering man in his arms. The Riskbreaker was still solid enough, for the moment.

"No... not like this... You were supposed to stay /here/... We /planned/ it! You were to die... someday... and come /here/... with me!"

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"What have you /done/?! You should've had /plenty/ of energy! Enough for hundreds of years of life..."

"I needed it... I spent it... all of it and more to spare."

"Then you have nothing...? Not even enough to reach the Dead Lands...? What will you do?!" The gray eyes stared at him in sudden frightened understanding. "You... you /knew/... and you still...?" Slim hands knotted in his shirt, "... take /mine/."

"Don't be stupid!" Ashley shook his mage gently, balking even at the suggestion. "I wouldn't... and even if I did... There isn't enough! Don't you see? I'm not dragging you down with me..."

"But you'll /fall/..."

"I know..."

The mage shook his head in angry denial. "How can you take this so /calmly/?! You're... Ashley where you will go... no one has ever come back! You'll be dead to me! /Worse/ than dead! You'll be /gone/..."

"I'll come back."

"...what...?"

He smiled gently for an instant, brushing a stray strand of corn-silk hair behind an ear. "I'll come back to you... Wait for me?"

"You Bastard! You /can't/ leave me!!" Bardic training was forgotten, the words harsh and desperate. "What will I /do/... if you go..."

"Shhhhh..." Already, he was growing weak. The arms he wrapped around his lover felt too insubstantial. Beneath his feet, he could feel the vortex forming, the Shadows were rejecting him, a parting shot from the angry Goddess. He looked over Sydney's head at the silent woman.

"What I did, I had to do. It was not malicious... I have never wished to harm you, Lady. Nor do I... ask for forgiveness."

"You have little time."

"I know." He bent his head and breathed in the scent of the mage's hair, trying to fix it in memory. "Listen to me Sydney... /listen/... There are so many things I wanted to say to you... /Should/ have said to you... but it seems that our time is already over, and now I'll never have the chance..." The dark man silenced the protest with a finger. 

"I love you, you know. You have been the best thing... the /best thing/ that has ever happened to me. I don't think there is any way to really thank a person for that... but I do... You are my life Sydney, my /center/... Don't be so certain... that I won't find you again. I /will/... and when I do, I expect you to catch me up on all the news I've been missing... Be brave, whelp. You can do this..."

"I /can't/... not without you!"

"You can... you have to..." Ashley had a moment to wonder, that his hands didn't shake as he pulled the necklace over his head and pressed it into his lover's hand. The cultist accepted the gift with an unwilling noise but allowed his fingers to be curled around the small rood. The smaller man's movements had become jerky, and when his chin was coaxed up; the gray eyes were unnaturally bright with tears. Wet tracks were already visible on both cheeks as he silently sobbed.

"D-d-don't leave me."

"I'm sorry..." The pull of the vortex was strong now, tugging at him eagerly. Throwing any sense of self preservation to the wind, he squandered the last remaining strength to pull the prophet close, kissing him with all he had. It couldn't last long, and he felt himself begin to slip. Sydney was clinging onto him, trying to keep him in place with terrified strength, expending his own energies to try and seal the breach. 

"Let go, whelp..."

"NO!"

"... sydney..."

"D-Don't '... sydney...' Me! I'm staying with you!"

"...No , whelp... You're not... I'm not going to let you destroy yourself, not for my sake."

"Don't Go!" The cultist was on his knees now, reaching down into the abyss, refusing to relinquish the arm in his grip. "If you go I will have /Nothing/!" Finding strength he didn't think he had, Ashley reached up and forced the mage to loosen his grip. 

"... be well, Sydney..."

"Ashley?!" 

The Riskbreaker smiled sweetly, that rare half-grin he loved so well, and let go.

"ASHLEY?!?" 

It was too late, he was well out of reach, receding into the depths and out of sight. 

"ASHLEY!!!"

// Oh whelp... you'll never forgive me for this... will you. //

*************************

// Sydney... Müllencamp... The Dark... Rome... the curse... The Curse! //

The first rule for all successful Riskbreakers, was to always have a plan. The second rule, was once you /had/ the plan, to know when to chuck it and play things by ear. It was a delicate sort of balance, the line between controlling all the variables as opposed to plunging head-long mayhem. He had walked the path many times, but never had he been so aware of it as in the hours preceding his death. 

Ashley had known full well that he would die in Rome. It is a poor prophet indeed who cannot foresee his own death. He had known for years with a quiet sort of certainty, the signs to expect, the warnings to be alert for. He had known, and had prepared. Ashley was a Riskbreaker and a knight. If he was to die, he intended it to mean something. He couldn't remember when he had first stumbled across the reference. It was likely buried in one of the more dusty books of his lover's library. But like most things he read, it stuck with him waiting patiently for its moment to germinate into an idea. A short time later, the idea became a plan. 

His objectives were simple. The Dark was dangerous, an easily exploitable 'short-cut' for mages and non-mages alike. However the only way to restrict access to those too self-absorbed to use it responsibly, was to seal off the Well Springs, /all/ of them. It wouldn't be enough to just close the flow-ways, so long as the knowledge of them remained, people would try to break the seals. It was a problem in two parts, both of which would require massive amounts of energy. Müllencamp was hardly likely to support him. The books had provided ample information, and according to them, there was a way. Death curses were an old form of magic, blood magic, primal but strong. Most of the time they were used by desperate men seeking vengeance on their murders, but that was a childish demonstration of their power. Ashley had considerably more in mind as he put the spell together. A puzzle in two parts, to protect the Dark, to protect the world. 

// "They cannot abuse what they cannot see... what they cannot remember..." // 

He frowned, staring at the white sky. // That was my intention... drawn from my own life... When I couldn't remember my life before being a Riskbreaker, I had no desire to leave it... So I made /them/ forget... I made the world forget... Even when the seals eventually faded and broke, they were blind to it... Only those I left untouched... the priests, Vincent... some others who I could trust... or couldn't reach... Only they remembered what the Dark was... //

Given what he knew /now/, and what Vincent had confirmed, the plan had worked all too well. He had completed the spell as he died, had used his own life energy to fuel the geas as it spread across the world. "/Forget/," he had told them, and they did. No one to this day knew anything of Müllencamp, or Sydney. Even Valendia had faded from memory, the small country was wordlessly swallowed into France, wiped from history. Of Ashley, there was little more than rumor, an itinerant sword maker of curious skill. His name had become legend.

// I sacrificed immortality, I betrayed my god, I abandoned my mage... and /Now/ I find out... I only made things worse? When will life stop kicking me in the balls....? //

The blank sky held no answers, and giving up, he stood and scanned the horizon. He had wasted enough time already. There was still another piece to fit into the puzzle, and as his older self had said, it was hiding.

// Where would I hide.... If I was afraid of me... //

Squaring his shoulders, he picked a direction and began to walk.

*************************

"What the Hell?" 

Whiteness gave way to sunlight and grass without him noticing, leaving him looking around in bemused wonder. The setting was familiar, and utterly strange in its lack of strangeness. The white-painted picket fencing defied him with its normalcy, as did the cozy house beyond. 

// I'm... home? //

He looked left and right, seeing Mr. Cavanaugh's perfectly pruned roses and Mrs. David's small patio and grill. Ashley was standing in his own backyard on a cheerful summer afternoon. The question was, how had he gotten there.

// It's just like I remember... except quieter... no people... // He peeked through his back door. //Nobody home... Or is there? //

One of his earliest memories, of /this/ life anyway, was playing in this yard. It was funny, now that he had perspective on the whole thing, he had no memories of his first childhood except for the scant few unlocked by the Dark all those years ago. His life in Baltimore had truly been the only innocence he had ever known. 

// ... and there, I remember Mark tripped over my toy truck when he was six... and he had to get ten-stitches on his forehead from where he hit the picnic table... It wasn't my fault, but I felt so bad about it that I gave him my desert at lunch for like a month straight... not that the greedy bastard complained. // He smiled at the thought, but the joy soon faded. 

// We promised to be friends forever... Mason and Mark... an unbeatable team... we'd go pro together... we'd... Hell we were supposed to be on baseball cards together... // 

He was already moving, knowing where to go without thinking specifically of the details. The screen-door opened easily letting him into the cool shade and pine-fresh smell of the kitchen. Ashley stared at his mother's collection of ceramic chickens and shook his head.

// I wonder... what would have happened to me... if I hadn't been sent to the Academy... I'd have gone to high school, wouldn't I? Maybe gotten noticed by a college scout... More likely I'd get into Virginia Tech or someplace... and mom would have a ball dressing me in the school logo. I'd never have learned to fight again, never met Val, or Az... no Steven... would I have just 'dreamed' forever? //

The idea was painful, but he couldn't deny the faint tinge of regret. He would have been -life would have been- so simple, easier by far then the nightmare he had willingly thrown himself into. His friends would have had hobbies like golf, or chess. There would have been no enigmatic demons, no vampires, no gunmen, and absolutely nobody trying to kill, maim, or possess him. He would've been 'Mason'. Mason hadn't been that bad a person to be... not really. For the short time he had existed, the boy had been... it had been fun.

Ashley stood at the door of his bedroom, his fingers reverently tracing the superman poster. The Man-of-Steel's brave smile held no comfort for him now. He knew intimately what being a hero was like. It wasn't about flashy costumes, and the girls were scarce and seldom pretty. Most of it was hard, and painful, and lonely. People were seldom grateful when their lives were spared, but they were always ready to blame if something went wrong. The guardian shook his head, dismissing the bitter thoughts. Inside the room was just as he left it. His favorite glove was tossed lazily on the quilt, his school jacket was slung over the chair. He moved to the open window, unsurprised to see his clothing had shifted as he went. It felt good to wear jeans again. Outside, the sunny rooftop beckoned and squeezing his tall frame through the narrow space, he returned to his once-favorite hiding spot. 

"Hello then." It was a stupid thing to say, but what else was there? He didn't know how to react to this final twist. The boy he had once been was staring sullenly at him.

"Go away."

"You know I can't do that."

"I want to go home..."

"You /are/ home." The young man nodded at the scenery.

Mason rolled his eyes at Ashley. "...My /real/ home, idiot."

"...It's still there..."

"But we're never going back there... If I join you... There won't be a 'Mason' anymore... it'll just be you... it's /always/ been /you/. I might as well have never existed..."

Ashley grimaced. "It's not like that..."

"It's /exactly/ like that."

He had to concede that his younger self had a firm, if rather cynical, understanding of the problem. "...We /will/ go home you know... when this is all over... there's no reason why we can't go back... visit, say 'hello'..."

"We won't go anywhere if we /die/."

"We're not going to die." The boy snorted in response. "Don't tell me you want to give up? You? The kid who took out the trash /and/ did the dishes /and/ mowed the lawn every day for a whole summer when he was ten just so he could convince his mom to buy him a swiss army knife... one with the corkscrew, and the mini-screwdriver..."

"... and the fish-scaling knife... Yeah, it was great."

"It was a handy little gadget..."

"You left it behind, when you went to school..."

"I couldn't find it."

"It was under the bed, you were in such a rush you forgot to check even the stupidest place."

"...oh..." Ashley frowned in disbelief. "And how the Hell did you know that?!"

Mason echoed the frown, "I... don't know, I just do."

"...the Dark... cute, real cute... I guess it was always there... watching... waiting." He scratched his short hair, amused to have it again. "I bet it wouldn't have mattered at all... if we'd never gone to school... never found Steven... it would have /found/ a way."

"Pushy if you ask me."

"Yes. Rather. But I've grown... fond of it I guess, it doesn't mean any harm... it just misses us, that's all."

"... I don't want to disappear..."

"Who said you'd disappear? I'm /you/ silly... nothing changes that... it's just that I'm a whole lot of a few other people as well..."

"Yeah, /dead/ people."

The boy wasn't convinced, but he had one trick left. It was time to try it. "... It's a shame we can't get back together, since we're probably going to die if we don't... and then we'll never get to see Sydney..." His younger half froze, staring at his small fists. "...to think... he's been waiting such a long time..."

"...Sydney...?"

"Yes... isn't that what this is all about? All this pain and trouble? What are we doing, if not trying to find him...?"

"I..." Worried eyes looked up at him. "Will he die?"

"If we don't find him soon? I don't know... but he must be lonely, I think. He always hated being left alone... almost as much as he hated being kept waiting."

They sat for a quiet moment, Ashley taking the moment to watch the fluffy fake-clouds above. He could feel the seconds slowly passing. Time was running out.

"... we have to find Sydney." The final verdict was decisive. "We have to rescue him."

"Agreed."

"But after that, we're going home! Mom'll be worried."

"Agreed. And I want to see Val again... and the rest of them... "

Shaking hands like strangers sealing a bargain, the boy became phantom-like, then faded all together. The last piece melted into place and the patchwork smoothly merged into a functional, if unusual, whole. 

// Just how many lives can one man live... before he just snaps under the strain? // He closed his eyes against the disturbing scene of his house and neighborhood melting away.

// Let's hope I never find out... //

There was a sickening almost falling sensation, cool air rushing against his face as realities shifted. When he reopened his eyes, he was someplace both familiar, and still completely new. Ashley batted at a stray whorl of mist that tried to tangle in his hair. His black leather gloves caught his eye with the gesture, and he studied himself in amusement.

// I didn't use to be this bad... I've lost all of my old habits... // The guardian closed his eyes, concentrating a moment on what he wanted. The Dark was happy to oblige. Leather was exchanged for cotton, his favorite red t-shirt was pristine in this reality, no paint specks or grease stains to mar its soft comfort. His jeans still had the rips in the knees from when he had taken a fall in sparing practice. The left leg was patched neatly with a scrap from /somewhere/. Valor had proved his domestic competency in a frustrated fit one afternoon, sewing while he and the familiar tried hard not to laugh.

// Well /I/ laughed, Az just... looked confused. // He gradually got his bearings and began to walk. // I wonder how those two are holding up... //

"... help me!..."

The cry was faint, but filled with terror. Instinct immediately took over, common sense managing only the beginnings of a complaint as he took a guess at the shout's origin and started to run. The steady weight of the sword in his hand came as second nature, reality conforming to his will as it had long ago.

// Another day... another rescue... //

*************************

__

Hunger.

In the misty darkness, laying low to conserve her strength, a monster lurked. A crone's torso morphed into a medusa-like tail, both were rough with age and broken scales. The arms, tucked close to her chest were mostly hidden in the curl of her body. Even under the dark mat of hair, their elongated shape was disturbing. They ended in a pair of giant hands, each skeletally spider-like in appearance, but more than capable of completely circling a grown man's waist... and snapping him in half. She was a monster indeed, only the eyes hinted that she had once been something more. Almost human, they shone with a silvery light, the last vestige of a divinity lost, even now they were wide open, staring patiently into the mist. She was hungry. 

There used to be something more, something beyond this ceaseless urge to hunt and feed. But that was a long time ago, and if it had ever been true, she had un-remembered it along the way. Müllencamp raised her head to smell the changes borne on the mist. There was a familiar tingle in the air; familiar, yet disturbing. It reminded her of things, things from back then, back when everything made sense, back when she wasn't aching with this hollow feeling. The Dark trembled and shivered, something was changing. It had to do with that elusive scent. Staring with wide, sightless eyes, she slowly began to move, curiosity getting the better of hunger. Hands dug into the non-stuff that counted as ground, pulling her way along in deliberate lunges. The rest of her slithered gracelessly behind. Had she remembered how to think, she might have questioned her inability to simply wish herself to where the disturbance lay. Had she been able to reason, she might have stopped to try and place the familiar tinge to the air. But neither was her nature, not anymore. 

She did not keep track of her lumbering progress. Her claw-like fingers bit into the cool surface. The mists tangled in her matted hair. She was close, focused on her quest as she could usually only manage when hunting for prey, and even then, never for this long. Müllencamp's outreached claw bumped something, an obstacle in the mist. Surprised, she paused her progress, feeling for the strange lump hidden neat by. She prodded it again, and this time took hold, lifting it into the air. There were only two other things wandering the mist aside from her, food, and the ghosts of food. But she could not catch the ghosts. The goddess sniffed her captive carefully as it whimpered in terror. Food then, her simple mind reasoned. She remembered this food, it had been her quarry many times, an elusive creature who might have been nearly as mad as she. Müllencamp smiled at her success and revealed a frightening set of teeth. The little spirit in her hand made louder noises, they always did. Their energies burned so prettily when they neared their end, and for a little while after she ate, they tickled her on the inside. Had she remembered, she might have been reminded of fireflies. Ignoring the desperate pleas, she settled herself, and prepared to eat. 

Whatever else she had been looking for was long forgotten.

*************************

Ashley's first impression, was of some kind of snake-woman, like one of the Naga rumored to live in caves. On closer inspection, even the creature's top-half wasn't all that beautiful. It was more like what would happen if a Naga ever had to grow old. The frantically squirming monk's body blocked most of the shoulders and face from view, but he got a sense of the monster's strength and speed before moving closer. What it looked like didn't really matter, it would be dead soon anyway.

// Where is everybody? Why wasn't this beast driven out sooner? Why does no one come? // 

He shivered as the cynical answer came to him. No one came, because there was no one left. The guardian brought his blade up, pulling energy around him to snap out a quick and brutal spell. At his command a bolt of force bloomed off the edge of the sharp steel spreading in a near-invisible wave. It caught the female-part of the creature full in the stomach, and the priest was dropped in a reflexive flinch. He darted forward, pulling the still babbling man to a safe distance. Somewhere along the way, the young monk seemed to realize he was no longer in immediate danger, and struggled to propel himself rather than be limply dragged. The voice, when he recovered enough to speak, was familiar.

"We have to get out of here!"

// This whole déja vu thing... it's getting a little old, ok? //

The Dark refused to comment. He shook his head in disbelief and turned to the man. "What?"

"She's going to /eat/ us! We /must/ run!"

"I don't think that thing is going anywhere for a while... and who /are/ you anyway?"

"I'm /Teo/, you young idiot!" Behind his flustered predecessor Müllencamp pulled herself upright again, a ghoulish grin creasing the thin features.

"The guy who just /died/?!"

"/Yes!/"

"But he was /old/!"

"And /you/ were /bald/! What of it! Nothing is real in this place! Nothing except /us/... " He looked over his shoulder and began to pull frantically at the guardian's arm. "...and /her/..." Allowing himself to be lead further from the softly crooning woman, he looked back, and surprisingly, caught her eye. A thrill of pained recognition raced through him.

"Müllencamp...?"

She stopped moving a moment, still down to the tip of her heavy tail, listening. Ashley took a shuddering breath, and when it didn't help, took another.

"...My Lady...?"

Mouth opened in a soundless hiss, she coiled, and /struck/. Her speed was impressive as the enormous hands came with in frightening inches of his chest. He had half jumped, half been pulled out of the way of the attack. The ragged claws passed by his face with little hesitation. No human intelligence looked back at him from within the glowing eyes.

"/Run/, Boy! Our only hope is that she loses sight of us and gets distracted!"

"You sound like you've done this before..."

"Twice a day every day for more than 30 years... she's hunted me... I'm not about to play dead /now/... not when I'm finally thinking clearly for the first time in years..."

"The Dark drove you mad?!"

"Can't you feel it? It'll get to you too... soon enough..."

Ashley closed his eyes for a moment as he ran after the monk, not worried that he would trip in this featureless place. He knew what madness felt like, that too was someplace he had been before. He listened carefully to himself, trying to find any hint that something was out of place. There was nothing, all was as it should be.

// Curious... maybe it's as he says... something for me to look forward to... // 

In the distance behind them he could still faintly hear the goddess' movements. Opening his eyes, he pulled on the Dark once more and was glad that it was just as happy to respond to him as it would to its other master. The Riskbreaker started weaving the energy, creating random diversions to leave in their wake, distractions to intrigue and annoy the simple-minded creature. Blooming to life like wild flowers from his footsteps a small field of rainbow colored balloons floated slowly upwards, followed by ticking alarm clocks, several ridiculous-looking clockwork monkeys, fireworks rigged on a trip-wire, and even a shiny brass toaster that played 'London Bridge' as it cooked. He was vaguely proud of the last. It produced a different flavor of bread each time the lever was pressed. 

// Now is /not/ the time to be impressed with yourself, idiot... get a move on! //

The plan worked better than expected as she encountered the masked trail. Each new 'thing' that he fashioned served to slow her as she paused to investigate it. Eventually they reached an area of the Shadows where her presence was only a muted blur. They were safe, for now.

The monk, young as he had not been since first accepting his burden, collapsed into the mist with a sigh. Ashley found the dark-eyed gaze uncomfortable and briefly fidgeted with his sword before dissolving it all together. It would come again if needed.

"How do you do that so /easily/?! And before, when you were hiding our trail..."

"I don't know... practice I guess..."

"... The Dark never came easily to me... it didn't like me... thought I was boring..."

"That could be a problem, yes..."

"It likes /you/ though..."

"... yes..."

Teo tilted his head thoughtfully. "Saaa, it won't matter in the end... you'll still go crazy. But while you're here... it'll be good to have an ally..."

"Don't get your hopes too high... I came here for a reason."

"I told you before... there's /nothing/ here... just Her, and me.... and now /you/..."

"I can't believe that..."

The monk smoothed his robe serenely. "Look around... this is it. She eats /everything/... everything of substance... 'order' seems to attract her... and like a vortex, she rips it apart, bleeding it dry." He waved his hand through the thick gray mist. "...This is all she leaves behind."

The guardian frowned, digesting the information. "So there are no structures left at all? No ruins? No subKingdoms? What about Chang and his mountains?"

"... They are still there... of a sort... they draw some of their energy from outside this place, so can never be devoured completely..."

"Müllencamp's temple?"

"... gone..." The young priest tilted his head thoughtfully and seemed to remember something. "... there is /one/ other place... a 'structure' as you call it... a strange place..."

"What is it?"

"A massive dome... or perhaps it's a sphere, I've never found out. It's white, like an egg."

// An egg? //

"Can you show me?" Curious, Teo stood and began to lead the way. After a short while the Riskbreaker had a grim feeling that he remembered the way. He pushed past his companion, moving forward at a quick pace. Ashley knew where he was going. 

He was going /home/.

*************************

"You see? It's round!" The priest touched the glassy surface with a reverent finger. "... I never noticed how smooth it was... almost like polished marble..."

"...or mirror..." Despite its lack of reflective luster, he could sense something of the barrier's nature. Brute force would simply slide off the clever shield. The signature of the mage who constructed the titanic spell might as well have been spelled out in light bulbs. He resisted the urge to press himself against the wall to get closer to the long missed aura. Sydney /had/ built this, but the traces were alarmingly faint. No new energy had gone into the barrier in a long time.

// What did you /know/, whelp? // Ashley looked up, craning his head back to get a glimpse of the white expanse as it rolled away and out of view. It /did/ remind him of an egg. He didn't want to admit that he was also checking for signs of damage, chips or cracks, or worse. If the goddess had found a way to breach...

// But no, she would have consumed the shield as well. The energy would have been irresistible. So... that means it is intact... which means... //

He copied Teo's gesture unconsciously, reverently touching the wall for entirely different reasons. // ...maybe... //

"SYDNEY!" 

The roar echoed alarmingly off the surface and off into the silence of the mist. The monk cringed and stared at him in horror.

"...What are you /doing/?! Are you /trying/ to get her attention?!" 

He ignored the frantic hiss, pressing his forehead against the cool shell. There was no change in the slow patterns beneath his fingers. "Sydney...?"

"It's just a wall, you lunatic... we've got to go... She has to have heard you...."

"No." He grinned humorlessly. "This is where I belong... you don't have to stay though." The Riskbreaker turned back to his study of the barrier. "It'll be me she's after anyway..."

"... What are you trying to do...?"

"I was rather hoping that someone would let us in... but it seems they're not listening..."

"So we're in trouble...?"

Ashley pondered the problem, "Not necessarily... the whelp was always exceptionally good at thinking things through... he would've... I don't know... planned for this..."

"What, like leaving a back door?!" The monk stared at the flawless surface in bemusement.

"...a door? It would be to risky... a weakness... unless..." The guardian frowned and placed a hand back on the barrier. "What the hell, it works in the movies..."

"I'm home."

The simple words triggered an impressive response. The entire dome seemed to shiver slightly, energies stored deep within came pooling to the surface causing it to glow. Under his fingers, Ashley watched the surface shimmer and bend. When finished, the completed opening was large enough to walk through without stooping.

He turned to flash a smirk at his gaping predecessor. "Let's go."

One at a time, they stepped through the small opening into the area beyond. The dome sealed silently behind them with a ripple. Arriving not long after the door had faded from view, the woman who had once been a god stared hesitantly at the impenetrable whiteness. The shifting colors on the surface amused her a moment, but after circling the obstacle once and finding no weakness, she moved off in pursuit of a new distraction.

*************************

Desolate. It was the only word he could use to describe the place. The dusty air dried his lungs in moments, triggering the urge to cough. Ashley turned instinctively to check that the pearly barrier still stood behind him. The shimmering colors were the only encouragement visible in the dead region. He took another breath and grimaced at the stale taste to the air. It smelled like a tomb. The comparison was not an appealing one.

"What a strange place..." The priest inspected the dry soil underfoot, stirring the powder-like stuff with a finger. "It's solid... yet colorless..."

"... dead."

"Well there seems to be a general theme of 'gray' about the place but that's not so uncommon here..." Teo grumbled as his companion ignored him, moving off into the flat wasteland. "... Hey! I was talking you know!" He sighed and moved to follow. 

"...No respect for his elders..." The taller man made no sign that he heard. Long strides carried them out into sprawling territory. They seemed to have a definite destination in mind so the priest gamely followed, curious to see what would happen next.

There was no mist beneath the shimmering dome, only a dull haze obscured the few objects in the distance. It left the walkers with a disconcerting feeling of exposure after the constant sheltering fog outside. What must have once been rolling hills surrounded them as the land sloped slightly upwards. In the distance, a dark smudge hinted at something other than bare hills. Ashley turned at some internal cue, and cut to the right. He seemed to be following some long ago erased trail. The monk frowned, looking at the new swath of landscape. Not so far in the distance, a potential 'goal' was the only marker on the flat plain. He squinted at the dark shape.

// It... looks like a pillar? Or maybe a tree stump? //

Although tempted to ask, it seemed inappropriate to break the hush of the empty land. Even their footsteps were muffled by the sandy soil. Without the hint of a breeze, air sat dull and heavy on his face and in his lungs. The guardian walked on, heedless of any discomfort.

It wasn't a tree stump, the entire trunk stood intact. Dead, the bark a dull dry black, branches split off from the center in stately sweeps. The tree was a giant, a grandfather among oaks. Impossibly fragile remnants of leaves, and even a few withered tufts of grass remained tucked in the sheltering nooks and crannies of the exposed roots. Moving closer, Teo looked upwards into the barren branches. The patterns woven by the spreading branches and bare twigs seemed a part of something greater. There was a graceful order to its chaos.

"...It wasn't supposed to be like this..." The low voice startled him badly, and he turned to glare at his large companion. He changed his mind at the sight of the man's haunted expression.

"Ash-Li?"

"/Ashley/." The correction was distracted. He didn't bother to look to see if the priest understood or not. Teo shrugged. He couldn't hear the difference. The guardian continued to study the scarred bark with eyes that seemed to see more than just wood. He was looking deeper, into the heart of the thing. The monk cleared his throat hesitantly.

"...I think it's dead."

"... is it? But how could that be... if I am alive..." He placed both hands gently against the fragile surface. Around them, the Dark stirred slightly.

"...come back."

*************************

// I remember this... how to do this. I can do this. //

It became something of a mantra as he worked. Extra thoughts and worries bled away as he felt for and finally triggered the power lying dormant beneath the barren surface. The reservoir came awake at his call, and the Dark came flooding back.

// Come back... be as you used to be... //

He had no real goal when he started. The guardian tried to organize his priorities as he went along, supplementing the sleeping resources with the steady flow from the Rood burning on his shoulders. Perhaps it could have waited, but the sight of the desert had disturbed him badly. He needed to fix things, needed to prove to himself that they could be fixed.

// ...Why didn't Sydney... // The thought was left unfinished. If he let himself ask the question, then it would be harder to ignore the answers already whispered in the back of his mind. There was something to be said about denial, at the moment it was better than several of the alternatives. 

// Come Back. //

Ashley didn't hear his companion's startled noises. His eyes were closed, focused more on the shifting energy patterns than on the visible results. Gradually he began to see the logical reasoning behind the land's neglect. 

// All of the power, all the energy that went into making... well... /everything/. It was being used... The vast reservoir fed directly into the barrier.// Ashley studied the massive spell, worried that he had upset the balance. It was easy enough to make sure that he didn't pull too much away from the critical walls, but the intricacy of the project daunted him. Sydney's attention to detail had been flawless. It must have taken a long time to create such a ward. The mage had had the time, and more to spare.

// He was so determined to be self-sufficient for as long as possible... Husbanding every resource he could find? Did he know Müllencamp was changing?// The guardian was able to gather only faint clues as to his lover's mood at the time the barrier had been formed. None of them were very cheerful. // He couldn't be sure that he would be able to tap the Dark anymore... so he worked with what he had. He made certain that it would last as long as possible... // Leaving the reservoir alone, the Riskbreaker fueled his revitalization with only the power of the Rood. It was tiring, but safer than tinkering with things beyond his understanding.

The tree beneath his fingers shuddered slightly as more and more energy bled back into the world. Awakened by his will, the Dark spread through the landscape like a ripple through still water. His wave spread out from the center, leaving behind it a barrage of light and color. Above him, twigs thickened and gave birth to small buds. They in turn opened, revealing an explosion of spring green leaves. A young breeze came from nowhere, catching the new growth and whispering lovingly through the branches. Around them the tall grasses bent and sighed as they covered the hills in a living carpet. Ashley frowned in concentration and the sounds were joined by others. Faint whistles and buzzes arose as a variety of small insects and birds came into spontaneous being, pulling themselves together from the dust. He wanted to do more, but the constant drain of the Rood was getting to be too much. It had been too long since he had last needed to test this sort of stamina.

// ... I forgot how /big/ this place was... // Disappointed at how little he accomplished, he leaned against the tree to catch his breath. The warm wood was satisfyingly solid to the touch. The last time the world had needed serious work, it had been a year long project. They had worked together to rearrange things, each doing what he was better at. It has turned out well, even if they /had/ argued every detail.

// If Sydney were here we could just... // 

He opened his eyes, and slowly looked around. Sydney /wasn't/ there. There had been no trace of the man since their arrival. The only clues he had were old, centuries old.

// Surely... he'd have heard me... I usually can't add so much as a pebble without the whelp demanding to know why I'm changing something. //

The evidence against the mage's presence was adding up at an alarming rate.

// No, he's here... where else would he go? //

Teo was looking around with obviously glazed eyes. He had apparently come to the limit of what he could be asked to cope with in a single afternoon. Every time grass tickled the limp fingers, the man jumped. The guardian looked at his creations. They weren't perfect, absences still glaring in places. For all of the mistakes, it was a beginning. He gazed up at the pearlescent sky.

//... At the moment... I've got more important things to worry about. //

Ashley tugged the stunned monk to his feet. "Come along, we've still got a ways to go."

A pair of purple bumblebees played in the tall grass, dipping and buzzing on the warm breeze. 

*************************

The Riskbreaker's influence waned steadily as the moved further and further from the tree. By the time they took their first steps into Sydney's forest, greenery was growing scarce. The first of the tall pines had shown some weak attempts at life, but further along the trail there was nothing. Between the bleached and brittle trunks, tufts of grass battled for a foothold in the parched soil. It reminded the grim man of a graveyard, each tree was a marker for the fallen.

// Try being a little /more/ morbid... hmmm? //

He wanted to run. He wanted to sprint the last quarter mile, to slam through the door he knew was waiting. Not knowing was slowly making him crazy. Ashley kept his stride even, taking the time to look around. Except for his recent meddling, the country was just as empty as before. There was no answering echo from his mage. He couldn't remember a time when he had wrought magic in this place without feeling the blonde's supporting presence. It was like singing a duet without the second person. He kept listening for something that just wasn't there. The silence set his teeth on edge, but the windblown grass on the bluffs ahead coaxed him forward. The path broke free of the trees to follow the original coastline. Had he turned his head, the first glimpse of the tower would have been visible. He couldn't. Ashley stood frozen at the top of the hill, brain trying to reasonably justify the impossible sight.

The ocean was gone.

The guardian blinked. He hadn't really been expecting anything. In hindsight, he should have been prepared for this particular twist; but he wasn't.

// How can it just be /gone/?! //

All that was familiar ended at the white sandy shore. The bluff that he stood on, and its rejuvenated vegetation was as it should be. Even the pale beach looked normal, but where the water should've begun there was only air. Instead of the vast salty sea, there was nothing. For the first several feet the land sloped down to a smooth rocky floor, but even that faded eventually into white nothingness. Sydney's ocean -the pride and joy of his small reality- had been erased. The Riskbreaker stood at the edge of the world, but no words would come to express what he was feeling. There were no words at all.

Sensing his mood, Teo said nothing when confronted with the odd sight. He simply followed when they finally continued their journey, looking frequently over his shoulder at the gaping emptiness. 

There had once been a second, smaller building next to the slender tower. It was still there, but had not weathered the empty years as well as its neighbor. Half collapsed, the gray plank walls of the workshop did not have a sturdy look, rather more like the light breezes would quickly bring the rest of it down. Compared to the tumbled smithy, the pale granite tower stood as if timeless. Knowing eyes quickly scanned the stonework for signs of damage, erosion, /anything/. He frowned as he counted the number of broken windows. 

// No time to freak out now... You should've done that before you left... //

It was strange to approach his own front door as a stranger would. Everything was so familiar. Everything had changed. The lack of brine in the air was giving him a headache. He pushed open the door with a boot. It wasn't locked, there had never been any need.

Even in the dim light provided by the dusty windows, the state of the kitchen was eyebrow raising. The room was in pieces. Broken furniture and plates layered the floor with a variety of sharp textures. What was too big or too sturdy to be smashed was either scorched, or marred by scratches. He frowned at the obvious signs of a tantrum of unheard of proportions and ran a finger along the damaged mantelpiece. The scratch marks, usually four parallel gouges, but sometimes five, were upsetting. After the ocean, he had thought he had reached the end of his ability to feel surprise. This went beyond even that boundary.

// ...am I really shocked? Maybe... maybe not. // Claws had bit just as easily through stone as they had through wood and cloth. // I knew he'd be upset... I knew that just coming here, apologizing... I knew that it might not be enough... // With a sweep of a hand, he drove the majority of the litter to the far side of the room, and bent to upright the table.

// You started this with no guarantees of how it would end... So what if he's still here. It doesn't mean he wants you. Maybe he's just hiding... maybe... //

It didn't feel right. He traced the scars on the table top, feeling the ghost of the rage that had created them. The house just felt /dead/. There was no one waiting for him, anxious, angry, or otherwise.

// ... and what will you do then... hmmm? // Ashley frowned at the cynicism in the thought. Sometimes he hated his practical side.

// If he's not here... I'll just keep looking. //

"Stay here." He had no energy to spare on explaining things to the monk, simply pointed him onto the intact bench before picking his way to the stairs. If the mage was anywhere, he would be at the top. Ashley passed like a ghost through the remains of the place he had once called home. No longer interested in what else had changed, or been removed all together, he looked neither left nor right, hurrying up each level.

Finally there was only one last staircase, one step. He was /there/. Almost afraid to breathe, he stood hesitantly on the dusty carpet. The renaissance styled room was like some twisted parody of his memories. It resembled more of a haunted house then a luxurious suite. Several of the ornate screens remained intact, survivors of the damage that had claimed the rest of the house. The windows that remained intact had been left open, allowing the new breeze to stir up little eddies in the thick dust. Tattered brocade draperies hung mournfully here and there. His boots crunched quietly on the remains of several vases, but it was nothing, barely audible over the thunder of the heartbeat in his ears. He was too high and far from the field to hear the birdsong; and with the ocean gone, the silence was a shroud. The phenomena was so strange that he was badly shaken when he turned a corner and came face to face with a stranger.

He blinked.

The young man blinked.

Remembering how to work his lungs, the Riskbreaker raised a hesitant hand, and his reflection followed. Their fingertips met, flesh on cold glass. His mirror image smiled as he did, but the image was some what distorted as the edge of the glass dissolved into shattered pieces. A constellation of silvered-glass slivers decorated the carpet. Hundreds of fragments of him stared up in wonder. Ashley was drawn back to the remaining part left in the frame. It had been too long since he had last seen a mirror. He looked odd, as if he was caught wearing an older brother's things.

// But I don't have a brother... //

The red t-shirt and jeans were definitely Mason, as was the tousled fall of dark hair. He finger-combed one of the growing 'tails' self consciously. The surface was young, but the eyes were not. He grimaced at the bruised look of his tired face. The expression, and the small mocking smirk that it provoked were quintessential Ashley.

// What a hodgepodge I've become... that I can not recognize my own reflection. Sad really... // The idea caused him to frown again. // It'd probably scare the crap out of Syd... // It took only a moment of concentration for the image to shift, but it felt strange. His body was strangely resistant to resuming its old look. Sweeping the long tails back, away from his face, he firmly told the part of himself that was laughing at the peasant shirt to shut up. He turned away from the glass, and moved the last of the cloth barriers aside. The guardian had found the oasis at the center of the storm.

It was fascinating to watch the way the ancient satin could still shimmer when caught in the barrier's constantly shifting light. The fabric spilled off the bed in a waterfall of soft pale gray folds. He knew it was a cowardly gesture, to come so far and then postpone the inevitable. Every nerve hummed with energy as he forced his eyes higher. Pewter colored sheets were bunched and wrinkled into a frozen sea. The bluffs on the shore were made of plump pillows. Hanging over the edge of the bed, a pale hand dangled in empty space. The fingers were curled upwards in the manner of sleeping children. It was possibly the most beautiful thing he had seen in years. Time fought to regain its normal pace, his heart hammering in his chest. The hand was attached to an arm, and in turn to a shoulder. Ribs, frighteningly countable, formed a delicate ladder down the narrow chest before fading into the porcelain skin that softly gave way to the hip. The smooth shadows of the collarbone and slender arms tempted him, and before he was aware of it, he had knelt next to the bed. Shaking fingers moved, daring to trace the exposed shoulder and then higher along the neck. He increased the pressure as gently as possible, as he searched along the fragile seeming skin. There was neither breath nor pulse. Sydney might as well have been carved from marble.

// ... but... he... what are the signs of life to look for...? In a place where most of the residents have already died once. //

"... sydney...? "

He brushed back the faded hair, faintly glad that /some/ color had remained in the familiar body. The mass of washed out gold slid silkily away from the narrow face. Eyes traced the delicate contours, and he remembered what they felt like beneath his fingers. Their taste, their texture, every sound the blonde was prone to make. Ashley gently caressed the parted lip. It was almost as if the cultist was sleeping, but that was wrong. The fiery mischief maker would have never tolerated such teasing. Surely the bright eyes would crack open in an instant, amused or irritated, sleepy or just plain wanton. Any minute the strange spell of silence would be broken and his mage would wake.

The seconds slowly slid past.

"... Sydney?"

Cool skin warmed slightly beneath his fingers, but the curl of the slender body was more doll-like than living. Fumbling, he gently rolled the cultist onto his back, and looked for any signs of damage. Rather than the expected stiffness of a corpse, the muscles moved smoothly. Limply uncurling under the gentle pressure, the entirety of the smooth flesh lay exposed. At another time, in a different situation, he would have been captivated by the display. He methodically checked for injuries. The mage was completely unblemished aside from the unusual pallor. The pale fringes of the eyelashes remained firmly closed.

Uncertain what he was doing, Ashley curled around his long sought after partner. Gathering the frail limbs close, imparting what heat he could offer, he took a breath and ventured the one place remaining. The Dark, all this time silently waiting, crept closer, but was unwilling or unable to breath life back into the unmoving body. 

// ... Do /something/ ... //

Taking matters into his own hands, he tucked the prophet into his customary place against his neck, and sent his consciousness outwards, settling into the quiet form. There was no welcome waiting for him beneath the too pale skin and skull. The hollow /blankness/ reminded him of the wastelands he had just come from. 

// No, I can't accept this... /SYNDEY!/ //

He reached deeper, following the echo of his cry, daring to trespass further. The guardian was alone in the darkness.

// Sydney... please come back to me. //

Something, a ghost of a touch, breezed along the line of his jaw causing him to flinch. It was a playful sort of thing, a teasing gesture. He crushed the fierce feeling of longing that it provoked. Following the direction of the caress, he turned his head, trying to catch it again. Standing out, a golden speck in the darkness called to him. It was a moments effort to catch the light, his prize woefully small as it burned and twinkled like a snowfly. Cupping it tenderly in his hands he fed it as a woodsman would fan an ember. It burned brighter and stronger with every breath, absorbing his energy readily as it began to grow.

The small flame became a golden ball, and then the tiniest of infants. Ashley watched in wonder as the child grew, the young features blurred by the bright glow. Energy poured quickly now, golden hair covered the small head. Holding his burden gingerly against him he followed the rapid changes counting off the years in his head. The three year old stretched and reshaped gaining seven years of height, and then an additional five. The first hint of pale hair was visible on the thin arms and legs, a haze of stubble blossomed along the chin while more luxiourious curls were evident in another, lower, place. At seventeen Sydney was almost divine. Ashley had seen portraits of the duke as a young man, and there was no sign that he had been anything but ordinary. The mage's mother must have been something unearthly.

// How he must have turned heads when he first came into power... No wonder the church was afraid... he could make a /pope/ dream of sin... and probably laugh while doing it. //

The changes were more subtle now. The limbs stretched a little longer; the face grew a little older; the muscles hardened beneath his fingers. Already almost dizzy from his earlier exertions, the Riskbreaker clung to his lover's spirit with determination. Suicidal or not, he would see it through to the end. The lidded eyes shifted restlessly as the golden man dreamed. A faint frown tugged at the corners of his perfect mouth.

"Sydney?" This time the whispered request found a response. Shoulders twitched, and the mage drew a sigh of a breath. Holding perfectly still, absorbing every movement, the knight waited. With a few false starts, the eyes slowly opened and the waiting was over. He stared into the smoky depths, amazed that the joy burning inside him wasn't some how tangible in this dream-place. The cultist smiled. Expressive lips formed a single silent word, his name. Slender hands were already tangling in his hair, pulling him down, bringing them closer. Closing his eyes against the almost painful light, he marveled at the warmth of the kisses. 

*************************

// ... Where...? //

There was a certain novelty to the question. Or perhaps the amusement came from acknowledging that it /was/ a question; a conscious thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had had one of those.

// And I bet there are plenty of people who've /never/ had one... //

Humor brought back a sense of identity, and he was no longer just a nebulous thought, but a person. He did not try and hurry the process of waking, not understanding quite what was happening. It wasn't alarming, not knowing who he was. Instead of any feeling of worry there was only an enveloping warmth, a comforting lassitude that assured him all was well with the world. The rhythmic pulse beneath his ear gradually resolved into a heartbeat. Without being able to explain, he instantly equated the sound with safety, and a deep feeling of trust. He considered undertaking the effort of movement, but it was far easier to just keep his eyes closed and wait for the world to make sense.

// I had a strange dream... There was a man. He was calling to me, he called me 'Sydney'. //

The pieces fell together, and suddenly in remembering, he /was/. Startled eyes flew open, and were greeted by an impression of dark hair, warm eyes, and an achingly sweet smile; all at close proximity. Ashley was curled around and over him, watching him get his bearings with gentle humor.

"Good morning..."

Luckily his body knew what to do. Even as his mind gaped blankly, he was already wriggling arms free and wrapping them around the strong neck. The Riskbreaker was warm, wonderfully solid and smooth to the touch. The hair at the base of the man's neck tickled his arms as he shifted his hold.

// ... I'm... dreaming? //

"... Hello, you... "

The mage was exhausted despite having just woken up. He ignored the discomfort however, arching upwards to greet his lover properly. Stunned lips were slow to return his kisses at first, but the hesitation melted with proper encouragement. Weight shifted carefully as the larger man pulled them closer, freeing a hand from the embrace to gently slide over his shoulder and back. Some things never changed, Sydney closed his eyes and tasted the willing lips again. The Riskbreaker was handling him as if he were made of glass.

// Of course... this /is/ a dream... I remember now... This is the good one, where he's here and we... //

The hot depths of his lover's mouth tasted slightly of cloves and salt, but mostly there was the distinct flavor that could only be described as 'Ashley'. He shivered as their rolls reversed, the invading tongue tickling as it explored. It was an amusing game, and for a while they were distracted by it. The larger man finally pulled away, the need for air a priority. With his eyes closed, he felt the knight dip down again, this time forgoing lips in favor of tasting and caressing the rest of his face. Each eyelid received a gentle kiss, as did the tip of his nose and the point of his chin. He laughed at the dark man's strange mood.

// Oh yes, I remember this dream well... //

"I was afraid I had lost you..."

// ...lost... me? // The motion of their two bodies twining together was familiar, but the whispered words felt out of place. This wasn't how his dream usually went. Sydney smiled up at his worried mate in confusion.

"Why would I be lost... I haven't gone anywhere... You told me to wait. So I waited."

// Strange... that only seemed to make things worse... // He gently stroked the pained expression. It suddenly seemed unlikely that the tall man would kiss him again. The sweet dream was warping into something disturbing and unpleasant. // No... No I want the other dream... I don't like this one... It's too much like the other ones... the ones where he's gone... //

"Sydney, are you..."

The mage cut off the question with a passionate kiss. If his dream wouldn't take the initiative, he'd just have to help things along. It had been along time since he had such a lucid fantasy. He was determined not to waste it. The sweet memories always faded too soon.

// And the Lady knows I'm mad enough now to accept even these little crumbs. Maybe that's why this feels so real... I've finally gone over the edge... //

His efforts paid off as the guardian was distracted from his concern. The cultist had no use for words, they were fleeting, pointless things. He needed to /feel/. Large hands caressed down his spine with a feather light touch. The Riskbreaker's breathing held the beginnings of a whimper as he let the blonde nuzzle along his neck and under his ear. Sydney smiled, his blood slowly warming as he immersed himself deeper into his fantasy. Part of his mind was clamoring that it was reckless to believe so readily, to give in to the illusion. It was going to hurt, when the dream ended. He ignored the inevitable outcome, for now there was nothing but pure sweet pleasure.

// How long...? How much longer can this last...? Please, just let this last... I need you Ashley... // His head was coaxed back until he was eye to eye with the large man's quiet gaze.

"Even if you are a dream... thank you. It's been so long since I've been able to dream of you..."

"... dream?"

"Yes. Oh but I shouldn't have said that..." He laughed quietly at the perplexed expression. "I'm just surprised... how is it that I can remember you so well... maybe I've become a savant in my lunacy..." The cultist placed a finger over the lips, silencing the forming argument. "No, my love. At least let me acknowledge what I've become... I don't mind going mad... not so long as I can have you. You /will/ stay, won't you?" The parted lips were still under his teasing touch and he pulled away in confusion.

"What's the matter?"

Dark eyes watched him in alarm. "Sydney... This isn't a dream."

"Don't be silly, it /is/ a dream... what else could it be?" His laughter sounded brittle in his ears. Taking a breath, he forced the dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him aside.

"I'm /real/, whelp. I've come back."

"Of course you have, love... But that's just what you always say."

Ashley frowned, flinching away from the next kiss. "You think that I'm a delusion?"

"A marvelous figment, forged from my frivolous subconscious to keep me company... but don't be disappointed..." The mood refused to lighted, and he began to lose hope. His knight had lost all interest in their play. "Oh don't stop... we have so little time! Let's not fight? Who cares what's real and what's not... can't we just enjoy ourselves?"

Brown locks of hair trailed over his skin in a soft caress. The dark man was shaking his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line. "/Listen/ to me, Sydney. You're not sleeping! You're not mad or anything like that... I've come back! I brought you back... I need you to believe..." The voice dropped to an unsteady whisper.

"...Impossible..."

"/Look/ at me! Look around... Is this really your dream world?!"

// W-what is going on...? //

"I'm /real/, you little idiot. I need you to snap out of this haze you've put yourself in and Wake Up! I need you! ... I need you... "

// I'm... not dreaming...? // His previous ardor was rapidly quelled. Warmth faded leaving only a hollow stomach churning pain. A shiver ran through him despite the warm presence above. Sydney looked over the muscled shoulder, and slowly recognized the shattered room beyond. The ripped drapery and broken glass didn't belong, they were part of something he wanted to forget.

// ... no ... Not that... anything but that... //

/He/ had done this. The furnishings had crumbled so easily beneath his metal fingers as he screamed and bled and cried. It had been a shameful spectacle, but no one had been there to witness it. He had been alone. 

// Ashley ... he... and I... /alone/... there was no one... no one at all... //

The hollow feeling slowly spread, numbing him to the very core. He felt frozen, clear headed and detached for the first time since waking.

// I'm awake. /Really/ awake. This is no dream... and Ashley is /Dead/. // He shuddered and took a breath to ground himself. 

"Please let go of me."

His choked whisper hung in the air between them like a ghost. The cultist shifted, trying to find some leverage against his larger captor. Limbs long left unused were not very cooperative. // How long... Goddess... how long have I /slept/?! //

"...Sydney?" Strong arms had instantly loosed their grip at his cold demand, but they did not completely let go. There was more than enough room to wriggle free from the stunned man. His uncoordinated movements hampered the escape and he tumbled off the bed. Pressing his advantage, the prophet scrambled to his feet, retreating to the wall. The dust made his eyes water.

"Hey! What? What's wrong?"

It took two tries to muster enough voice to respond. His throat was too dry to work properly. "...You... are /not/ Ashley."

"What?!"

"... /Imposter/..." Sydney felt sick, even knowing what he was looking at was a lie, he couldn't help but feel pain. The illusion was /perfect/. If he hadn't known better he'd have sworn it was the man he had loved. The man who had betrayed him, and whom even now he could not hate. "... how /dare/ you... How DARE YOU! ... How dare you come here... HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS FACE!"

// Stupid. Mad, insane, desperate fool. You didn't see the mirage because you didn't /want/ to see... // 

It was strange to cry, after all this time. He had thought himself done with tears but they had begun again, hot and angry, wetting his cheeks. As powerless to stop them as he was to drive the fraud from the broken rooms, he let them fall. Instinct fought with paranoia as he studied the trespasser. Sharp eyes sought and found discrepancies with the long cherished memories. The hair was a little... and the posture... the small differences became easier to see. His heart hardened, taking strength from the evidence. This was /not/ the man it appeared to be. It was someone, or something else. 

// How dare you... how dare you take advantage... you had no right... // His thoughts were pure self loathing. // and I would have let you get away with it... // It had been too close.

"What do you /want/?! You're not welcome here... Get Out!" He was weak, frighteningly weak. Sydney swallowed his fear as the man didn't even bother to flinch. The compulsion rolled off of him without the slightest effect. He refused to admit defeat, there would be an opening, he had only to wait.

"Sydney, calm down. You're confused, upset, just..." The man shook his head. "I'm not trying to hurt you..."

"You're not Ashley."

"I'll have to disagree with you, I'm afraid."

"What do you want?!"

"... to help." Perhaps it was a guardian trick, or maybe a Riskbreaker trick. He kept his voice low and non-threatening as he inched forward, moving to corner the wild-eyed mage. He would subdue him if necessary, better that then having the blonde throw himself out a window. 

// Don't /listen/... 'tis a trick... he is not ... He cannot be... // Even the way the soft spoken man shifted his weight was hauntingly familiar. If he closed his eyes, it would be easy to forget. // ...Is it really you...? //

The distance between them closed by another cautious foot. Sydney felt his marginal freedom slipping away. He hadn't felt this helpless since childhood. Trapped just as surely as if he had never left the bed, he pressed back against the wall, closing his eyes. Strong hands gently caught his shoulders, holding him in place. The cultist's stomach twisted painfully with the proximity. // It's /not/... don't let him... //

He lashed out, terror and adrenaline giving him more strength than he had anticipated. Flesh gained a silver sheen as he twisted his arm around for a vicious blow. Even hampered by the awkward angle, the force was enough to set his assailant on his heels. Using the remaining momentum, the blonde ducked desperately under the remaining arm, but he wasn't fast enough. A gloved hand caught him by the shoulder, wrenching him around and back towards the wall. Ashley wasn't looking at him, the hand that sheltered the damaged cheek gingerly moved aside revealing a wicked set of scratches. The deep cuts were already bleeding freely. The cultist flinched, feeling strangely guilty. The edges of his claws were unmistakably wet.

// Oh but this... // He pressed his lips together in determination. // Now is no time to go soft... /strike/... while it is still stunned. /Strike!/ // Still, the Riskbreaker's eyes looked hurt; almost black colored with some unreadable emotion.

"Let /go/. You'll find me no easy wench to tumble!" 

Something flared in the hazel depths, and faster than he could truly register the movement; the right hand had lashed across his face. He gaped in surprise as his cheek burned in the afterglow of the open-palmed slap. The stinging palm print must have been clearly visibly on his pale skin. It hurt enough to trigger a scattering of new tears. Hands instinctively fleshy once again, he covered the bruise with shaking fingers. The echo of the blow seemed louder as it hung in the air between them. Numb from the sudden retaliation, Sydney could only stare mesmerized at the blood slowly running down the taller man's face. The rough voice pulled him back into reality.

"...Had enough...?"

Pain had completely broken his stride, but in return it had dispelled the last of the haze clouding his thoughts. Underneath of it there was little of use, only a stunned blankness. He mutely shook his head in agreement. Ashley seemed satisfied as he released the captive shoulder and turned away. Without the firm support, the cultist found himself slowly sliding to the floor. His face /hurt/.

"... my Ashley... My Ashley would have never hit me..."

"Your Ashley never needed to."

The blonde blinked, digesting the grim reply. "I don't understand."

"No, you don't. And you /won't/ unless you let me explain..."

A little dizzy from the unwelcome wakeup call he could only cooperate with the dangerous impostor. Although now that he looked at the man closer, he wasn't so certain anymore. "Oh," he winced, hating how he sounded like the lost child that he felt. His companion turned back to him, scratches already healing. Sydney winced again. "I'm... sorry." The guardian didn't attempt to touch him again, only sank to the floor so that they were eye-to-eye.

"So am I." The lips twitched in easily readable worry. "I shouldn't have hit you... You just... you're not usually prone to hysterics..."

"I wasn't Hysterical! I... you're asking me to believe the impossible."

"...the impossible? Sydney, if you had any idea what this... what I have been through... all the /shit/ that has happened... just to get /this far/. I'd like to think you'd cut me a little slack..."

// He even sounds the same when frustrated... not that eloquence was ever Ashley's strong point... // It didn't change the fact that something just felt /wrong/ about the man. // ...and then he /hit/ me...// The mage shook his head, immediately overruling the angry voice. // You started it... Goddess... is that.... // He cast his mind back, even at his angriest, he had never once sought to physically assault his lover. It gave him real, solid evidence of just how far from 'normal' he himself was. 

// ...What's wrong with me... //

Mustering his courage he looked up again, trying to find proof of his lost love in the darkened hazel eyes. It was there waiting, as it had been along. The feeling of /connection/. Even closing his eyes he could sense it, louder now without the distractions. 

"...Ashley...?"

"Yes. Ashley. Remember me? Big guy, rather messy, used to live here?"

"But you've changed..."

The bark of laughter sounded painful. "Yes, yes I bet I have... Does it bother you so very much?"

"But... what if this is some... I don't know, what if I'm still dreaming...? or this is some paranoid fantasy- what if..."

"You're not going crazy." The statement allowed no disagreement. "...besides, don't you thing this has all hurt a bit too much to be a mere fantasy?" The cultist gingerly touched his face.

"... good point."

The guardian slouched lower resting his chin on his knee. "You know... for a tearful reunion, so far this has really sucked."

"...'sucked'...?

"Slang. English. Never mind."

Certainty was finally getting the better of doubt. Hesitantly curious, Sydney crawled forward -unmindful of the dust- until he could feel the warmth of the Riskbreaker's breath on his face.

"Ashley?"

"...Yes?"

"You're really here, right?"

"Yes."

"But how..." It was strange to find himself believing without understanding. It went against all logic, but he couldn't stop. He had always found Ashley unnerving in that sense. The man's amazing capacity for complete painful honesty was almost inhuman. Sydney was a prophet, but he had never taken anything on faith alone, not until he had met the Riskbreaker. Even after the long absence, the habit of simply believing the man was hard to break. Needing more than words alone could provide, he leaned closer and planted a kiss on the drawn forehead.

// ...Ashley...? // Sensing what his partner needed, the dark man submitted to the hesitant tendril of thought. Awash in his lover's memories, the cultist quickly found the familiarity he sought, as well as the beginnings of an answer.

// ...Reborn? //

The tenderness of the warm presence that hovered around him was almost too much. Underneath however, was a hollow need that he recognized as being an echo of his own. The scant awareness he wasted on the 'outside' world told him he was being gathered into an embrace, but it was of secondary importance. What did his body matter when what he had truly missed was something more intangible. Words slowly came across their link, the low comforting rumble of the knight's thoughts.

/ Yes, reborn... had to find you. /

// Reborn... for me? //

Brown eyes twinkled in sudden merriment. / Yes, for /you/. Why else? /

It was hard to break the intimate connection, but he was tired and so let go. Sydney let his head sink down onto the well padded shoulder, bathing in the warmth. It had been a long time since he had done /this/ as well. Wishing the tears away had no effect, nor did cursing them. Salty wetness was once again escaping under traitorous eyelids to splash silently on the warm skin beneath his face.

"...Are you crying?"

"I never cry."

"No, you did. You cried when I left..." His whisper was heavy with regret. The prophet shook his head mutely, scattering more tears but not trusting his voice. "Why are you crying, whelp?"

"...because... I'm happy?"

The miserable sounding response triggered a huff of laughter, but strong arms only tucked him closer. Warm, loved, protected, the sensations that greeted him on first awakening returned like the reprise of a favorite melody. Surrendering the last of his tattered dignity, Sydney pressed his face into the bronzy skin and wept.

*************************

The blonde's vulnerability was painful to watch. Feeling inadequate, Ashley cradled the sobbing man in his arms and wished there was something more. There was no way to undo the last hundred years, all that was left was to see how deep the damage ran and pray that it could be repaired. He could feel the long broken ties between them slowly joining, strengthening. They had been together for so long that the feeling of the mage in the back of his mind had been as real and as necessary as a sixth sense, one that up until this moment had been uncomfortably unresponsive. He became aware of his lover like a blind man slowly regaining sight. It was a refreshing if not necessarily cheering ability. Connected as they were, Ashley could now feel the prophet's pain as though it were his own. He murmured soothing, useless, nonsense words into the closest ear. It didn't matter what he said at this point. The blonde was too tired to understand. It was the /sound/ that mattered, and the assurance that he was still there. Hesitating a brief minute, the guardian gave into temptation and gently nibbled at the soft skin. The body in his arms was finally relaxing, burrowing closer. Sydney's emotions had settled into an exhausted sort of shock. Ashley could only be glad that it wasn't worse, and that rest would help.

// ... How long can a person be confined in a place all alone before dementia sets in...? How long before it becomes permanent...? // 

He struggled with the frightening thought. Nothing he had experienced in either life had prepared him for this. Of the two of them, Sydney had always been the stronger. At times the mage was almost painfully self-sufficient. The Riskbreaker could count on one hand the number of times he had seen the cultist falter during the long centuries of their partnership. By comparison his own weaknesses had been glaring.

// But he never seemed to mind... Hell I think he must have gotten some perverse pleasure from stitching me back together... if not, why did he put up with me for so long...?// He stared at the dazed blonde curled against his chest, willing him to get better. 

// Funny really... I just don't know what to do...// The thought had a certain dark humor to it. // Usually... I'd just ask Sydney... // It was a pity that the option was a little impossible at the moment. He looked around with a sigh.

There was no energy left to fix the damage done to the room. It would just have to stay in pieces a little longer. Carefully shifting his dozing burden to the bed, he gathered the remaining bedding into a warm nest. It took several tries to tuck the blankets around them. Every time he pulled away in stretching for the slippery cloth, the arms around his chest would tighten convulsively and he would have to pause to soothe the tense muscles. 

"Shhh, I'm not going anywhere... not for a little while anyway." The gentle words seemed to do the trick. The smaller man's breathing slowing to a normal rate, but they eyes were still wide open and restless.

"No, not ever."

"What, never?" Ashley smiled at certainty that he heard in the whisper. "I'll have to wake up eventually... You don't want me to waste away, do you?"

"Never again, Ashley."

"...whelp?" He felt his back tensing, preparing for another bizarre argument. He loved his mage dearly, but the man was asking the impossible.

The cultist apparently had other ideas. Relinquishing his death-grip so he could look his knight in the eye, Sydney chose his words slowly. "I won't let you do this to me again you know... I can't... I-I don't think I could survive it twice..." He grimaced, fighting for control. "If you... I'll go mad, if you leave me again. I /will/..." The mage shook his head, dismissing the Riskbreaker's alarm. "Awake, asleep, here, there, I don't care... I just need you... /alive/... I need to know you're there..."

Ashley sighed in relief, and placed a kiss on the damp forehead. "I'm here. It'll be just like it was... you'll see..." He tried to laugh. "Except that you'll probably find me insufferably paranoid about you for the, oh I don't know... next sixty years?"

"I think I could live with that..."

The guardian hugged him close. "...I'm sorry."

"Yes, and you're never doing it again..." The voice had regained a measure of confidence for the first time. Sydney's attempt at his usual hauteur threatening to make them both smile. "If you do... I'll... I'll come /after/ you! And when I get my hands on what's left of your sand-filled jelly-brained corpse... I'll beat you /so/ hard!"

"Is that a promise?" It was too late, he couldn't stop the laughter from escaping. Given the fragile mood, his mage put up with the teasing remarkably well. The blonde mock pouted, but there was still something hollow in the gray eyes.

"Yes, it is."

"Hmmm, I'd better behave then, hadn't I..."

"Yes..." The brief happy moment couldn't last long enough, already the cultist's eye lids were drooping. His crying jag earlier had depleted what little reserves Ashley had given him and his voice faded into a sleepy murmur. Pulling the tattered quilts closer, the guardian shifted his lover into a comfortable embrace. With his head pillowed in its traditional place on the knight's shoulder, Sydney was barely clinging to consciousness. 

"Will you be ok...? If I go back to the Waking for a while...? I don't want people to think I'm a vegetable..."

"You do sort of look like a carrot..." The whisper took a moment to decipher and made the guardian blink in confusion.

"Huh?"

"...vegetable...?"

"Oh... no, a different sort of vegetable."

"...potato?"

Ashley laughed again, bending to kiss his now grumpy lover. "No, not a potato. I'll explain later..."

"... you used to make more sense..."

Not knowing quite how to explain exactly how much culture had changed since Sydney had last encountered it, he shrugged. "Sorry... but will you be ok? If I go for a bit?"

"... I'll be fine..." The murmur was almost kittenish. His mage had already given up on the conversation, turning his face against the guardian's skin and going limp. Ashley watched him for a long moment, concerned at how fragile the man still felt. He took stock, and was cautiously happy with how things had gone. It didn't seem such a risk now, to be optimistic. Things weren't finished yet, but still...

// ...and Müllencamp is still out there... or what's left of her... // It would have to wait. He was tired, bone tired. It had been a long day by every measure conceivable, and he had had enough. The blonde sighed, settling into a deeper sleep as he curled childlike against his chest.

// I have Sydney... everything else... can wait. //

"... love you, whelp."

"... big idiot." Too tired to laugh at the sleeping cultist, he tucked his head into the familiar space between the silky hair and the pillow and closed his eyes. It felt good to let the fine locks tickle his nose. It felt like home.

*************************

*************************

Notes:

Yeah, umm... the moral of this story.... If you're right on the verge of finishing your angsty fanfic... especially if you're a sucker for shonen-ai.... Do Not- and I'll say it again - Do Not let yourself be talked into playing Suikoden2. It is a marvelous angsty, tasty, twisty RPG, and it WILL eat your soul... and the valuable writing time.

That being said... here is chapter 6. I hope it wasn't too much of a waste of your time. In the classic refrain of my other stories, I had actually intended this to be the final chapter. But as usual, I budgeted too much 'stuff' for my goal-number of pages, and rather then have this thing turn into a 200K download, I decided to save the finale for the LAST chapter, chapter 7. You'd think I'd have learned to pace myself by now. Nope.

So here's to the fanfic that just won't end... be assured, the next chapter is already in progress.

write me! Tell me I'm on crack.

-Lunar

http://www.roodinverse.dreamhost.com


	9. Looking back.

**Looking for the Lost:** **part 7**

An AU Vagrant Story fic. All standard disclaimers apply. You know the drill. // … // are thoughts, "…" Is Kildean speech, and it ain't over until the little blonde sings. No, really, I'm not kidding.

*************************

_Each time on my leaving home ****__  
__I run back to my mother's arms, ****__  
__one last hold and then it's over. ****__  
__Watching me, you know I cry, ****__  
__you wave a kiss to say goodbye, ****__  
__Feel the sky fall down upon me! _

_(Enya-Shepherd's Moon-'Evacuee')_

In the darkness, a woman was crying. 

The corridors stretched out around him in a vast labyrinth, twisting away into the darkness. Breathing hard he chose his direction on instinct, sprinting down hall after hall, trying to find the source of the sorrowful noise. If he had taken the time to look closely at the lavish ornaments and portraits on the walls, they might have reminded him of the stately design of his father's house. The Ducal manor however, had never possessed such an ominous feeling. Sydney tripped down a flight of stairs, catching himself on the banister. Fleshy knuckles scraped the wall painfully and he looked at the scratched skin in surprise. Somehow he had expected them to be invulnerable to such damage. The idea that his hands had once been metal whispered in the back of his mind but it made no sense. Shaking free of the confusion he got his bearings. The storeroom was dark and cluttered. Spotting a narrow wooden door ahead, he darted forwards driven to hurry without knowing why. It gave easily under the cultist's shoulder and he almost tumbled again on the uneven stones of the catacombs beyond.

// What a strange place this is... //

In the distance, the soft weeping continued unabated, no closer then it had been before. Biting off a curse, he jumped over the boulders blocking his path and took off again.

// Don't cry... please... // 

There were stairs and then more stairs, each leading him further down, deeper into the bowels of the earth. He raced past dusty sarcophagi, underground rivers, sleeping dragons, even a small army of skeletons drilling in their rags and armor. The blonde ignored all of it. Wiping the cobwebs and sweat from his face, he leaped another broken area of stones, marveling at his stamina, and slammed through a fast succession of doors.

// I'm coming... mother... I'm coming! //

There was no sound in the strange place aside from the distant tears and his labored breathing.

*************************

"Mother?"

Sydney came awake with a lurch as the fragments of a nightmare dissolved into indecipherable garble. It left behind no memory of what exactly had troubled him, only a poignant feeling of a terrible impending loss. The taste of old socks in his mouth didn't improve the situation any. Grumbling bitterly at his disturbed sleep, he shoved the sheets away clumsily, and was surprised to feel the fabric disintegrate in his fist. The worn cloth tore easily when strained. He blinked and came fully awake. Sitting up slowly, the cultist couldn't help but feel sick and cold. His heartbeat was still irregular from the surge of adrenaline. His throat felt raw.

// ...mother...? //

It was strange to watch the fragments of decaying silk slowly fray between his clenching fingers. He studied the dust motes meticulously, trying to ground himself as he shook off the last of the dream.

// ... It... was only a dream...? // Disoriented, he looked around the ruins of his bedroom and waited for the world to start to make sense. He was all alone in the vast bed. The remains of the quilts still carefully tucked around him. 

// ...alone...? Oh God.... no... Not this... not THIS... // Panic surged and roiled, awakened from its tenuous sleep with eager energy. For good or ill his voice was the first thing frozen by the chilling wave of terror. He was already curling into a ball as the second wave came, bringing with it muscle-locking anxiety and nausea. The mage closed his eyes tight against the impending tears.  // No... He was /here/... It wasn't a dream... it was...// 

There was a certain appeal in the urge to just start screaming; at least then there would be /something/. Anything was better than listening to his own hitched breathing or the memory of the weeping-woman in the darkness. Had it been a dream? Or was /this/ the nightmare and /that/ the reality? Maybe neither was real, maybe there was someone else dreaming of /him/. The thoughts went around and around as he panted in the shadowy room, slowly tearing at his hard-won sanity. A small whimper found its way free of his tight-pressed lips.

// Ashley... I need you... //

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't stop the tremors that wracked his body.

//… Ashley!? //

To his surprise, the answer was almost immediate.

************************* 

Ashley came awake with the never-pleasant flavor of blood in his mouth. He gingerly checked where he had bitten his cheek; glad to see it was almost healed. The rest of him wasn't much better. He could feel almost every muscle in his arms and back as he moved to slowly upright himself.  It wasn't that remarkable, each fiber and tendon hurt with a new and distinct variety of pain. Joints popped as he straightened from his uncomfortable slouch. 

"Remind me to never do this again..." The grumbled comment was spoken to the room at large. More than half expecting to be alone, he was surprised when someone began to laugh softly. He winced at how rough his voice sounded, and added a sore-throat to his list of physical complaints.

"I can't believe you're alive..." The voice was definitely Liet's.  Straining to crack a dry and gritty eye, he shot the older man an amused look.

"You'd be amazed how often I've heard that..."

Setting his book aside, the gunman happily abandoned his chair to kneel on the floor. At some point, someone had been kind enough to slip a sleeping-mat under the guardian. It took the edge off the cold floor, but was only marginally more comfortable. The metal bands on his wrists chafed when he shifted his weight. Amused in a way that only the chronically-tired could be, he rattled his chains doing a poor impersonation of Jacob and Robert Marley. The literary reference went completely over his Asian friend's head. 

He shrugged. "So, who do you think I talk to in order to get these damn things off?"

"...You could always just /snap/ them..." The man grinned in amusement, remembering the first of many 'miracles' he had witnessed.

"What? And ruin my current 'nice guy' reputation? Besides... they're probably antiques."

"Ah, I forgot... Ash-Li is a refined foreign man who appreciates historic treasures..."

"Very funny, old man... Now why don't you go scare me up a monk... and maybe some food...?" He drew the last request into a plaintive whine, an obvious play for pity.

The assassin raised an eyebrow and preformed a mocking salute. "Yes sir, one grumpy old man, and a bowl of soup, coming right up."

"Ha ha..."

In spite of the general fatigue, the Riskbreaker felt surprisingly well; the fact that the love of his life was currently sleeping peacefully only a thought away probably had a lot to do with it.  A not so small, not so quiet part of him was eagerly suggesting that he could postpone facing the day and slip back into unconsciousness. The thought of spending more time watching the sleeping blonde had definite appeal.  He sighed, forcing the almost physical craving for the mage to be silent. As wonderful as it had been to hold the cultist in his arms again, he still yearned for more.

// Bah, no sense rushing into things... he needs time... it's been difficult for him... for both of us... // Mentally, emotionally, he was resigned to whatever his mage needed, even if other parts of him were a little more impatient.

// ...but Gods... he's still got it... so beautiful... // Ashley settled against the wall, trying to find an angle which wouldn't make his back complain. It was almost unnerving, after all this time, to have a dream come true. 

//...even if it didn't go precisely as planned... //

He was distracted from his brooding by several new arrivals. The priests filed curiously into the room, watching him closely. For an inane moment, he had the urge to say 'boo' or something equally childish. The guardian firmly told his sense of humor to grow up.

"Good Afternoon, Bearer..."

"Yeah, hello, great... Can I get unlocked now?"

Several of the older men winced at the abrupt request. "That may not be such a good idea..."

The Riskbreaker rolled his eyes at their nervous fidgeting. It didn't take a psychic to see what they were thinking. "Don't worry, I'm still sane... but I've got no circulation in my arms, I could really do with a stretch... and frankly... nature /calls/..."

His encouraging smile met with mixed response. The monks gathered into a small huddle as they debated procedure. It took no effort to overhear the hushed whispers and while there were several vehement dissenters they were soon overruled. Master Shu Lao's long suffering sigh seemed to sum up the popular consensus. The old man fumbled through his keys with a disapproving frown. 

"Much obliged!" Freedom was sweet relief. Ashley made a show of delightedly stretching his arms before finally standing up. The monks stared at him blankly as he happily staggered from the room.

"... strange boy..."

"He didn't /seem/ mad..."

"He's a foreigner, how could you tell?"

"Let's go inform the elder..." The apprentice master shrugged off the pointless conversation. He was perfectly willing to let someone else deal with the eccentric outlander.

Ashley was mid-way through his second bowl of radish stew when the first echoes of unease bled into the back of his mind. 

// Well... that didn't take long... // He didn't even have time to finish swallowing his current mouthful before the discomfort bloomed into full fledged panic. The mental scream almost made him see stars. He had a somewhat alarming moment where he tried to clear his throat of a potato that seemed determined to go the wrong way.

// … Ashley!? //

// I'm right here, whelp, remember? The Waking? //

It took several painful seconds for the mage to digest the information. Giving up on his meal, the guardian closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on sending only cheerful, comforting thoughts to the disoriented cultist.  He silently weighed the option of just /going/, folding the smaller man into his arms until the tremors he knew were rattling him had faded. Falling asleep in his lunch would hardly set the monks at ease. Ashley wavered, but took heart when his lover pulled back before descending into a full-fledged panic attack. The blonde's mental voice was a far cry from its old smug self-assurance.

//... You're... It really happened... didn't it? // 

// Yes. It really did. // He vaguely wished there was some way to soothe the reoccurring fears, but realized that time more than anything else would be the healing formula. He would prove it was real, because he had no intention of leaving again. The Riskbreaker tried to project some of that to the anxious cultist, but wasn't sure how successful it was.

Sydney took an almost audible breath, coming back stronger after the pause. // I thought you... you weren't here... and I... //

// It was no dream, love. Did you sleep well? // 

// ...fine... but I feel weak... // There was something more, but the mage seemed unwilling, or unable to say it aloud. The guardian bit his lip in silent worry. The blonde was trying very hard to sound self-sufficient, but it was obvious that he was only barely coping. He listened carefully. It would only take a word, a thought, and he would gladly drop everything to return. Nothing was more important than his cultist's wellbeing. Ashley winced. On the one hand, he wanted to do anything to comfort his lover; on the other, he didn't want to step on the man's natural independence. He chose his words carefully, leaving the offer open, but not explicit. 

// You're still recovering, these things take time... Do you need anything? //

The cultist hesitated again, plainly hearing the unasked question as well. // No... no I think I am alright... 'twas just a bad dream... 'tis gone now... //

// Want to talk about it? // He could feel the invisible shrug. 

// Nothing to tell really... Now that I am awake, I can not honestly remember why it distressed me so... //

// ...Probably nothing then... //

// Yes, yes you're right... I'm sorry for causing such a fuss... // The cultist sounded calm and collected. Ashley knew better. Over protective instincts almost got the best of him again, but he knew that running to the mage's rescue wasn't what Sydney needed. He mustered a smile.

// Don't worry about it... Fuss all you like. //

// ... Idiot. //

The shaky humor in the insult took any ill meaning from the word leaving only the grateful murmur. Ashley took the hint and gently dropped the connection, allowing the mage some privacy in which to sort himself out. Opening his eyes, he sighed at how complex things had become, and tried to remember what he had been doing before he had been distracted. He stared mournfully down at his bowl.

The stew had grown cold.

*************************

It took a few tries, but Sydney was faintly proud to climb out of bed under his own power.  Disgust was a remarkable motivator.  He glared at the remains of his once opulent room and began what was certain to be a /long/ mental checklist. Shaky hands or not, he wasn't going to live in a /sty/. The cultist grumpily kicked a broken urn, and could only sneeze helplessly as the movement created a small eruption of dust. Sitting weakly on the side of the bed, he reprioritized his list.

// Maybe I should just start from scratch... // 

The amount of work was both daunting and strangely therapeutic. Focusing his will was a skill that returned easily enough, and the first object of his attentions quickly began to correct itself. The bed lost its distressing wobble as the legs and frame returned to their earlier strength. The few washed-out rags fluffed and flowed into new shapes, deep burgundy satin standing out dramatically in the gray room. The mage hugged one of the new throw pillows to his chest as he inspected the rest of the area around his little oasis of color. Grimly gathering his strength, fueling the spell more from stubbornness then any real reserves of energy, he snapped his fingers and watched the furniture around him dissolve into nothing. The wide open space was satisfying after looking at the constant clutter. 

// A bit barren perhaps... // Recycling the meager energies, he coaxed the glass back into tall windows and stained the thick carpet a pale champagne gold. It was enough for now. Already tired, he burrowed under the new eiderdown and rested.

// Work... work is good... I can /do/ work... // Sydney closed his eyes feeling a tenuous sort of peace. So long as he didn't have to try and cope with all that had happened, he could pretend to function normally. The cynical voice of his conscience-- so prone to interrupting such thoughts-- was thankfully silent.

// ...later I ought to see what state I left the kitchen... I could really do with a cup of tea... //

*************************

Ashley wasn't sure which was more difficult, living his life or trying to explain it to others. The small group of priests would nod along with him as he spoke of the Shadows and the origins of the Dark, but every time he began to hope that they understood he found he had to double back and try again. Not for the first time that morning did he vehemently wish that his mage were the one doing the talking. The cultist always knew just how to phrase things to discourage questions.

// I think even at his best, he'd be lobbing fireballs by now... This... is annoying. // 

Wishing for Sydney was pointless. As fragile as the man's moods were at the moment, subjecting him to the strain of a barrage of curiosity was out of the question.  He winced, already visualizing the deer-caught-in-headlight's expression that would probably flash across the narrow features. // No, he stays put.  Quiet, familiar things are what he needs right now... No surprises, no sudden shocks... nothing exciting... not until he's stronger. // It was a relief to know that the tower and the surrounding country were completely cut off from the rest of the Shadows. 

// After all... what in the world can startle him if he stays in the tower...? Even damaged as it is, he knows every inch of it... Hell, it'll probably take him a month before everything is redecorated to taste... // Still, he had a feeling he had forgotten something. One of the more stubborn priests drew his attention back to the task at hand. 

"But if the Dark, this magic we use... is in fact the /opposite/ of how everyone else does magic... then how did Müllencamp use /magic/ to tame the Dark...?"

He was deeply glad that he had been allowed time to eat and clean himself up before joining the impromptu council. Trying to talk to the old men and women was hard enough without an empty stomach.

"Well..."  He had no clue how to answer. "Müllencamp was a very gifted mage..."

Somehow he muddled his way through the majority of the questions, breathing a sigh of relief when they moved onto newer and hopefully easier topics. The guardian subtly tried to wiggle his toes to keep them from falling asleep. Kneeling had never been his forte.

"So you're saying that previous Rood Bearers can live in the Shadows? After they die?"

"Even Master Teo...?"

// ...Teo? // The guardian's eyes widened in sudden alarm. // Oh shit! I forgot about Teo. // 

He smiled sickly at the small group. "Um... would you excuse me for a moment...?"

The second mental scream of the day came right on cue.

*************************

Humming softly to keep him company while he worked, the priest set about cleaning the assorted litter and trash from the countertop.  Exploring the ancient cupboards had proved fruitful. Stacks of delicate dishware were set out of the way on the table, as well of several large ceramic containers of what were unmistakably tea leaves.  It was useless to hope that there was a loaf of bread left anywhere in the dusty corners, but when he tried the pump next to the sink basin, he was pleasantly surprised that the water ran clean and fresh. Teo rinsed and filled a brass kettle, setting it on its hook in the fireplace.

// ...now to figure out how to light the damn thing... //

Picking through the pile of trash that Ashley had swept into a corner, he found a flint. An iron nail made for a workable striker. It only took a moment to find a collection of random burnables and with a prayer to anyone who was listening -- asking that the fireplace's vent wasn't obstructed or in immanent peril of collapse-- he started a cheery blaze. The small fire made the empty room a bit more lively, replacing the dull gray with shades of orange and yellow. With a sigh, Teo picked up his rag again and continued to clean.  There was little else to do while he waited for someone to return.

// That great oaf has probably forgotten about me... /idiot/. //

His grumblings were interrupted by a faint clatter over head and the priest looked up curiously. Someone was slowly making their way down the stairs. Setting down his polishing, he prepared to give the new Bearer a firm scolding. He had been left to his own devices for /far/ too long.

// And I want some answers, damnit. //

Still, the bare feet that came into view at the top of the stairs looked all together different from what he expected.

*************************

Sydney sighed in relief as he looked over the library.  Even as furious as he had been those long years ago, the books had remained sacrosanct. Well, almost sacrosanct. Several bookshelves had tilted over, or collapsed from old age, spilling their contents onto the floor. His old reading chair was split neatly in half, a mauled mess of stuffing and wooden supports. He carefully picked up one of the scattered leather-bound books, dusting it with a shirt-tail before setting it on the table. Another item was added to the list of repairs.

// What was I thinking... you'd suppose, with my usual neatness fetish... I'd have found a tidier way of going insane... // He smirked at the dark humor of the thought. // Then again... I was likely wagering that I'd never last long enough to want to clean up the mess. // 

He hadn't actually managed to fall asleep a second time, rather he had burrowed under the new quilts for as long as he could bear to. Finally laying still became too frustrating. As tired as the cultist was, sleep refused to come. Laying in the large bed by himself was unnerving, even with the drastic changes made to the room. Every time he closed his eyes, strange and frightening possibilities would creep into his thoughts upsetting his hard won confidence. Sydney had an eerie feeling that if he /did/ succeed in falling asleep again, he would awake to find everything changed once more, or even worse, that nothing had changed at all. Telling himself that the Riskbreaker was real helped, but only a little. There was a distressing urge to reach out and check every five minutes. Hating himself for the weakness, he gingerly felt for the steady presence. Ashley's attention was turned elsewhere and the mage didn't have the heart to interrupt him again.

// Try and be a /little/ less pathetic, hmm? // He forced himself to focus on the library with a growl.  Resting in bed hadn't helped, so he had decided to try something else. The flash of green from the window had beckoned him closer, encouraging him to look beyond the familiar confines of the room for the first time in years. The forest was withered and gone, but the carpet of tall grass was unmistakable, as was the deeper green smudge that was most definitely an oak tree.  The sight had been almost painful. It was strange how such small things took on meaning.

 Logic primly pointed out that it was to be expected that the tree would return with its creator, but then logic had little to do with what he was feeling at the moment. The cultist grimaced at his shaky control and squared his shoulders. 

// Right, time to get /out/ of this tower... before you really /do/ go crazy... // The tree was as good a destination as any.  

// A little exercise will help me get a grip on myself... and I'll probably be able to catch a nap... and then everything will be fine. //

Feeling marginally better, he padded his way down the last dusty staircase and blinked in surprise at the cheerful firelight.

// Did Ashley...? //

His eyes fixed on the startled man by the fire place and he paused, trying to place the face. To his alarm, he couldn't remember ever seeing the sour man before in his life. After a frantic double-check, he decided it wasn't a symptom of his potential madness. The man /was/ a stranger... a stranger who was currently setting-up home in /his/ kitchen.  

"Who the Hell are YOU?!" The cultist's voice cracked on the end of the shout, unused to such abuse, but the effect was still all that could be desired. His trespasser dropped a pot in surprise and rapidly scrambled away from the fire. The adrenaline rush couldn't last long enough to see him to the bottom of the stairs. Sydney gingerly sat down on the fifth step as his knees threatened to buckle. 

// Calm... stay calm... don't ... // It was too late, he was already panicking. His traitorous body seemed perfectly content to react to any small shock by twisting him in knots. The blonde hugged himself to disguise his shaking arms. Forcing the tremors out of his voice, he glared at the smaller man again. 

"What are you doing in my house...!?"

"...your... house?" Teo had relaxed slightly when the strange man had settled on the steps rather than charging him. On closer inspection he decided it wasn't a ghost at all, simply another alarming foreigner. It didn't change the fact that the man looked furious. "... I... Ash-Li said..."

The grey eyes blinked. "/Ashley/..? What about Ashley?!"

The monk's answer was interrupted by the door banging open. Sydney blinked again as the topic of their conversation burst in and paused, taking in the tense scene. The guardian winced. "... it seems... you've already found out about the houseguest."

// Houseguest? // He stared at his lover in confusion.  

"... this... thing... is yours?"

The Riskbreaker had the grace to look guilty as he grinned. "His name is Teo... he's one of the old Rood Bearers but he's rather confused about the whole thing." In his corner, the priest snorted quietly. "He needs to stay here for the moment. It's not safe for him out in the Shadows... I was going to tell you... but then I figured you wouldn't be doing much today..." The large man climbed a few steps to crouch next to his mage. 

"You still look bloody tired."

"Couldn't sleep." The cultist frowned, trying to digest the new information. It was impossible not to relax as a gentle hand came up to stroke his hair away from his face. He continued to glare at the new guest on general principle but at least his stomach was no longer trying to turn inside out.  

"What's wrong?"

Sydney shook his head, unwilling to talk about his childish fears in front of a stranger. "Nothing... I just... thought I'd take a walk... and then I found him here..."

"I am sorry about that..."

"No, 'tis well, you can not always anticipate me... but where will he stay?"

The guardian looked at the monk in bemusement. "I have no idea... I guess we'll make him a house or something."

"How inconvenient."

"This isn't exactly easy for me either, you know." Finally mustering his frayed dignity, Teo returned to his bench and rescued the boiling water.

// But that's /my/ tea... //

The long sigh from his partner made him turn his glare in a new direction. "Well it is!"

"Just /try/ and put up with it for a few days, whelp... besides... you could probably use the company."

"... I don't like him..."

"Only because he startled you... He's really not a bad sort... more your type than mine though, I think."

The mage made an articulate face and subtly checked to see if his hands were still shaking. Finding himself to be steadier, he rose to his feet again. "Yes, well, as you like. 'Tis too late to change things now..."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

The taller man was immediately at his side, a worried frown creasing his forehead. "I think I'd better come with you."

"I'm fine."

"Hmmm." Sydney was proven wrong the minute he stepped out the door. Frozen, he stared out at the empty white expanse that had once been water. "Maybe you'd better sit down again..."

Brushing off the helping hand, he resolutely turned his face away from the vast visual scar and picked his way down the path. "I... had forgotten, 'tis all... it can be repaired, /will/ be repaired..." He looked up, suddenly remembering something else. "Shouldn't you be... /doing/ something right now? I really don't need a nurse you know..." The guardian simply raised an eloquent eyebrow and refused to comment. They walked through the dead forest in silence but the mood lightened as the stumps gave way to rolling hills. 

The warm wind was as soothing as ever, filling his lungs with the smell of new hay. Suddenly all the worries that had plagued him alone in his room seemed absurd, and he even smiled as the Riskbreaker produced a blanket to rest on beneath the awning of the large tree. He was obviously biting back further worried questions as he settled quietly back against the trunk and let his lover curl against him.

"It... 'tis odd... that I can so easily accept you here... when you're here... and then when..."

"Give it time..."

"I know, but..." There was no way to really explain how much it bothered him to still feel uncertain where dream ended and reality began. For an uncomfortable moment he wondered if this was what his partner had felt all those years ago as the spells unlocking his memories slowly eroded. A second blanket was produced and tucked around him and for a moment amusement overruled anxiety. "You're really liking this, aren't you... being able to mother me senseless..."

"...perhaps..." The hint of laughter was unmistakable. "Not that I don't wish you to feel better... but yes, it's nice to know you sometimes need me too."

"... I always needed you, Riskbreaker..." Sydney's whispered comment effectively killed the brief light-hearted mood. The knight grimaced as he tucked the smaller man under his chin.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. What's done is done." The mage made a half hearted attempt to pull away and glare but the effect was spoiled as he got tangled up in his quilt. Ashley manfully resisted the urge to tickle the exposed midriff as he helped sort the confusion out.

"Will you be alright for a while? I sort of left in the middle of things..."

"I'm /fine/, Ashley."  The blonde received a disbelieving look for his efforts. "I /am/..."

"Call if you need anything."

The cultist rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Go!" Shaking his head at his partner's fierce independence, the larger man faded from view. In the shade of the tree, it was almost possible to ignore that there was no proper sunlight beating down. The soft grass was just comfortable enough to sleep on if he curled between the roots, and feeling able to rest at last, he drifted off.

************************* 

"So what are you saying? That you have another /world/ in your head?"  Liet was trying his hardest, but the guardian was describing things that made no sense. All he understood was that for all the sleep the tall man had been getting over the past weeks he still looked tired and remarkably grumpy. His young friend rubbed his face ruefully.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me…"

"I don't… or rather I do believe you that I won't believe… I mean… I believe that you believe that I…" He received a smack to the back of the head as Pei silently joined them. She gave him the now familiar "you're babbling" glare. The gunman smiled sheepishly. "Well… yes…"

"…/Anyway/… so to answer the original question… /no/ I'm not sick… I'm just…"

"Not here." The demon woman finished primly, nodding her head in understanding. Her companion stared at her in confusion, and earned another glare. "/What/. He's spirit walking…"

The former assassin shook his head. "I have a feeling that all of this would make a lot more sense if I were drunk."

"There's no alcohol here, so too bad."

"You're a cruel woman Miss Pei."

Ashley shook his head as the two fell to squabbling once again. They didn't really need to know the details anyway, and now that they knew better, maybe they would stop trying to shake him awake at awkward moments. It was bad enough that he still walked on egg-shells around the recovering cultist, but to have one of the few romantic moments spoiled by an unwelcome wake-up call… was agonizing.

// Listen to them… going on like two old women… you'd think they were married… //

He had no more daily chores; Rood Bearers were generally exempt. The fact that he had lasted nearly a month now with no sign of losing his reasoning ability had set the temple in quiet uproar. The decision as to how to spend his afternoon was an easy one. The Riskbreaker found a quiet spot beneath one of the willow trees, and composed himself for sleep.

*************************

"Your move."

 Despite their bad start, things had settled into the beginnings of a friendly pattern between the cultist and the monk. The blonde rested his chin on his knee as he curled on the bench across the table from the frowning little man. At times Teo's grumpy moods reminded him of another old acquaintance, but there was no telling what had happened to Chang since they had last spoken. Sydney absently gazed out the window as his companion studied the checker board. He had not parted amicably with the older Bearer, something that he felt guilty about now. 

// At the time it was amazing that I could feel anything at all… // It was still hard to look back at those frightening empty years. Most of the time after the guardian left had reduced to a hazy sort of nightmare. The cultist was morbidly glad that he couldn't recollect each day of his confinement uniquely. The parts that he /could/ remember were more than painful enough. He shook his head sharply pushing the thoughts away.

// Enough, leave it be. Focus on something else. // 

It came easier now, the control he had been afraid he had lost. There were times when he could even go for hours in a row without a relapse of the old terror. It was better if he was distracted by something. The more he immersed himself in the here and now, the less likely he was to find himself brooding; testing those still-healing parts of his mind where hints of madness still wandered free. 'Time', he told himself, 'give it time.' Ashley's worried advice was sound, and had become something of a silent prayer. The mage raised an eyebrow as Teo finally slid one piece forward and collected his captured tile. Logical games with the saucy monk were as entertaining a way as any to pass the long hours between Ashley's appearances. 

"Good move." It was his turn to frown at the little black and white chips, trying to determine if his strategy had been thwarted or not. Seeing the opening had shifted but was still available, he smirked and slid a piece forward. The Asian man sputtered in dismay as Sydney lazily claimed his kill.

"How are you feeling today?" Teo's mild question, much like their never ending game of checkers, had become a daily ritual. From Ashley such a question would have quickly become annoying, but it was different when the monk asked. Perhaps it was because they shared a common experience. They both had lost and regained themselves recently. The monk however seemed to take his sudden return to sanity far easier than he could manage. Or maybe it was just that the orange-clad man had less mental baggage from his time as a lunatic. It was hard to say.

"Surprisingly well." The answer too was traditional. 

"Sleep well?"

"Well enough." He blandly matched the dark gaze until the doubting eyebrow went down. On a whim he leaned over and gave the shaved head a teasing polish. "'Tis true, no nightmares or anything of that sort… Want to inquire now if I brushed my teeth this morning? Or had problems tying my shoes?"

"No, and you don't /wear/ shoes…"

"Why bother? 'Tis not like I ever walk very far. Besides I like feeling sand between my toes."

"Point." The monk considered his own sandals placed neatly by the kitchen door. He still wore them when walking between his tiny cottage and the nearby tower, but it was more from habit than anything. In the month since his arrival in the strange sanctuary there had been vast improvements to the landscape and amenities of the walled-kingdom. Outside the window the sky was a pale clear blue, a glamour of sun and clouds that imitated time and also disguised the ever present barrier from view. The illusion wasn't perfect. He had once walked in a straight line as far as he could and came against a smooth wall. The distant horizon and sky were painted upon it with remarkable realism. Teo wondered what his curious host thought of the voluntary prison in which they lived. Only the Rood Bearer came and went as he pleased and he never spoke of what was happening outside their tiny world.

"You're distracted today… does the game bore you? We could do something else." 

Drawn back to the game, Teo saw that he had been caught and moved to counter the eventual trap. He studied his odd friend carefully. The blonde was much improved from how he had been even a week before, with each day a little more energy and vitality seemed to return. He was still almost frighteningly fixated on his absent lover. As approachable as the mage was when they were left on their own, everything was dropped with the Rood Bearer's reappearance. Sydney's exclusive focus on the tall man was unnerving, but for now they could play their game in peace and pretend there was nothing to worry about. "You're trying to trick me into sacrificing my 'king'… it won't work you know… I see your strategies now…"

"Really? Tell me what my next move will be then…"

"You're going to take that fellow lurking in the corner and slide him out to frighten my piece into the space on the left!"

"…'lurking'…" The blonde laughed lightly, "You make it sound like they're alive or something."

"But I'm /right/ aren't I?"

"Yes actually… Funny, it took Ashley years to see through that trick…"

Teo snickered. "Forgive me for saying this, but your tall friend has some curious blind spots as far as you are concerned."

"I suppose so, but the same could be said for me… Over the years we've perhaps grown… too enmeshed… It's hard to break out of patterns as old as ours."

"But is it healthy? To take each other for granted so?"

Sydney blinked, and fixed his companion with a hard look. "I never take him for granted."

"I think perhaps that you used to."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a feeling. That is all…" The blonde snorted in irritation at the comment and the rest of the game was played out in cautious silence. For once when the Riskbreaker returned, Teo was glad that he was once again unintentionally excluded. Taking his leave he sat on the rejuvenated shoreline and sighed in relief. Being the focus of the healing cultist's interest was one thing, being the focus of his anger was still a little alarming. There was amazing power sleeping behind the stormy grey eyes. It was dormant now, murky and almost hidden, but when the mage finally remembered himself completely Teo had no doubts that the blonde's anger would be dangerous indeed. 

"And Ash-Li of course sees nothing… he is too used to seeing what he used to see… it would never occur to him that his little love is keeping a secret from him…" The monk sighed and played with a piece of beach grass. "Who knows, maybe Sydney even keeps it a secret from himself?" He idly watched the lights in the highest windows bloom into existence against the gradually darkening sky. His two strange neighbors had retreated to their room for the night. Their problems were their own, for the time being. It was hard to say if his intervention would help or hinder the healing process. 

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… We fade far away to the distant shore, so far that we even lose ourselves…" He remembered his old home with a touch of melancholy as he settled himself to watch the moon-lit sea.

*************************

Sydney allowed himself to be cuddled close despite the warmth of the blankets. The quilt could be kicked off later for all he cared. It was the knight he needed. He turned his face into muscled shoulder beneath his cheek and smiled at its freshly washed scent.

// I don't take you for granted… How could that be, when everything about you seems so new and wonderful… // They had spoken very little tonight, Ashley had confessed he was simply tired for a change and it had been easier just to retire to the bed. A lazy hand caressed his hair and back with slow strokes. The mage all but purred at the attention. 

"You seemed a little… annoyed when I got home…" The murmur accused nothing, not even a question; it simply hung in the air as a possible conversation. Sydney responded with a negating noise and stretched himself out against his lover. Tanned arms readily tightened their hold to match, pressing him along the contour of the larger chest. 

"'Twas nothing."

"You two seem to be getting along well…"

"You're pleased at the development?"

"It's… good that there's someone here with you when I can't be…" The blonde snorted in amusement at the soft worry and tilted his head to give the man an off-center kiss. His invitation was readily accepted and Ashley rolled them just enough to lean down and kiss him back with earnest intensity. 

// I could never take you for granted… // 

He closed his eyes, consciously and unconsciously responding to the larger man's heady desire. Only the soft material of the guardian's pants kept them from being completely exposed to one another. Not that the thin cotton allowed his lover any secrets. The mage smirked as he felt the tell-tale bulge pressed against his leg. For a moment it aroused him, setting light to the ember of need that had once burned so brightly. It didn't last. Even as he responded to another ardent kiss he felt the hollowness return.  It only made him feel worse when his knight silently picked up on the dying mood and began to pull away.

"I'm sorry…" It was a futile sort of anger he felt for his treacherous body. The need was so real, but then so was the fear. Frustrated he turned to glare at the pillow, unwilling to face the disappointment that would surely be in the other man's eyes this time. There was only adoration in the shadowy features when the large hand coaxed his chin back around again. It was always the same, that patient-worried-happiness that both comforted and forgave.

"Give it time… whelp… Give it time…"

"I want you…" 

The guardian closed his eyes and smiled at the sad whisper. "I want you too… very much." His chagrined tone turned the vulnerable moment into a small joke. "But I can wait…"

"You shouldn't have to…"

"Shhh…" 

// /Did/ I take you for granted…? // Sydney reached up to cup the chiseled face in wonder; surprised all over again at the man who was so central to his life.

"Sydney?"

"Nothing… just…" He hesitated, there were many things he suddenly wanted to ask, but it didn't seem the time. His worries were silly notions, nothing worth bothering the Riskbreaker about. The man had enough to deal with already. Determined to salvage their intimacy, the mage fluffed the short hair affectionately. "I love you."

The confession seemed to startle the quiet man, brown eyes widened in pleased curiosity. "And what brought /that/ on?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"No… I suppose not."

The cultist's smile turned coy. "And do you love me?"

"You know I do, you greedy thing." The kisses that followed were simply kisses, nothing more, but for a moment everything was right with the world once again. Content, Sydney pulled his partner close and stroked the feathery hair until the taller man fell asleep against him.

// I will never take you for granted again… //

*************************

The woods were full of their usual quiet noises as the two men lazily followed a wandering trail. Teo stared about in appreciation of the restored landscape as he followed the mage deep in to the shady depths of the pine forest. It was a strangely timeless place. He could almost forget his headache. The blonde had begun to introduce him to the simple tricks and skills that would make his stay in the Shadows more pleasant, but the drills were no easier than the ones he remembered as a child.  More often than not, the Dark would slip from his grasp and his creations would dissolve into nothing, or morph into something completely unexpected. Teo shook his head at the way his recent attempt at a lantern had grown legs and strolled away. Thankfully the cultist had sympathy enough to not laugh. 

A little ahead of him on the trail, Sydney stopped to investigate a large mossy boulder. In a fit of child-like energy he scrambled up the side. The cultist almost resembled a ghost in his plain cotton costume, a spot of white and gold in the midst of the shadowy greens and browns. He was unquestionably enjoying himself as he looked around from his high perch.

"Are you certain your mother wasn't some sort of fox spirit?" Teo crossed his arms in pretend seriousness but the mage's small smile was contagious.

"Are you certain your distant ancestor wasn't a fellow named Chang?"

"That is a rather common name… But no I don't think any of my ancestors were Mongolian…"

"As you like…" The blonde leaned forwards to study his amused companion. "But you two really are terribly similar."

"He sounds like a wonderfully sensible person…"

"He was a grumpy old fart."

Unwilling to laugh at the bland jibe, the small Asian kept his features carefully schooled into impassivity. It was pleasing to see his friend so cheerful; exercise seemed to have done the man good. Looking around briefly, he admired the detail of the forest floor. "It feels so real here… One could almost forget that everything is an illusion…"

"By /that/ definition… everything here is illusionary… this is a land of dreams after all… the Shadows have no substance except that which we impose on them."

"How long have you lived here, Sydney?"

The cultist's eyes went unfocused as he considered the question. "Quite a long time, I suppose…"

"And you've never felt… limited?"

"What a strange question."

"Maybe it is merely a weakness on my part. But lately I find that as beautiful as this place is, I rather miss being able to walk the mists…"

"What, go into the Shadows? I don't see any reason why we can't… Ashley is like that too, although I've never understood their appeal." The mage caught his companion's alarmed look and raised a curious eyebrow. "What is it?"

"We must not go out there…"

"…Must not? Why ever not? You shouldn't let the brawn bully you so easily… you won't get lost if I am with you." The words were meant to calm the monk but only seemed to make him more agitated.

"It's too dangerous! If anything were to happen to you Ash-Li would… He would be very angry with me…"

"…Dangerous? I don't understand." Teo found the gray stare to be uncomfortable. "What in the world could be dangerous in the Shadows?"

The smaller man fidgeted, realizing he was walking a narrow line. He had always just assumed that his friend knew of the world beyond their protective walls. "Surely… you know already… why else would you create such strong defenses…?"

Sydney sat up in confusion. "Defenses? You mean the wall? That was meant to keep unwelcome guest /out/… not trap us /in/… I'd take it down, but it'd be so much work…"

"NO! You must not take it down!"

"… I think you had better explain…"

"Maybe it would be better if Ash-Li did…" Teo had the definite feeling that he didn't want to get between his two powerful neighbors should they decide to have a spat. The mage however, didn't seem interested in his opinions one way or the other.

"Ashley told you not to tell me something?"

"He never said…"

"Ashley is keeping secrets…?"

"I'm sure it's…" He froze under the cold glare. "… for a good reason…?" His whisper trailed off into silence. Sydney slid off the rock with easy grace and stalked back down the trail, after a moment's hesitation the monk followed. "Where are we going…?"

"Out."

"But…"

The blonde turned long enough to flash a brief bitter smirk. "If I can't trust my friends to tell me what is going on… I'll just have to see for myself won't I…?"

"I'm coming too…" Wishing he knew some way to stop the stubborn mage, Teo trailed after him nervously. There was little doubt that his friend would return until he had seen the worst of it, and there was no telling what the shock would do to him.

// Ash-Li, now would be a really good time for you to come back…// Not for the first time he wished that the absent Rood Bearer could hear him even half as well as he seemed to be able to hear his lover.  

*************************

The Shadows were much like he remembered them. The ceaseless swirling of monochromatic mist was rather tiring on the eyes. Sydney turned to give his companion an 'I told you so' stare, but was put off by the way the monk was carefully studying the vacant landscape.

"There's nothing here… Come on, I'll show you around, shall I? See the sights?"

"We should go back…" Teo was loath to leave the edge of the smooth barrier and its implied safety.

"Will you tell me what is going on then?"

"If it will make you give up on this insanity? Yes, I'll tell you anything you want!"

"Start talking."

"It's /her/…"

"Her?"

"Don't say her name!"

"Who, Müllencamp?" The smaller man all but jumped out of his skin.

"Hush fool! You'll get her attention!"

"Watch who you are calling 'fool' little monk… I'm still older than you… besides, what is there to fear from the Lady? Her sense of humor is quirky at times, but hardly terrorizing…"

"It could be said that her ladyship is no longer quite herself…"

"Meaning?"

The words forming on his lips died as a dark shape stirred in the mist. He all but wrenched the blonde around, pointing wordlessly at the crawling creature in the distance. "Can we please go?" Something in his mood was finally bleeding over into his friend because the stubborn pose was immediately dropped. Sydney hesitated only a moment out of curiosity before the sense of impending danger was too strong to ignore. Uncertain what was happening, he opted for the strategic retreat. He admitted he wanted to /see/ this danger, not necessarily experience it first hand. With a word they were safely whisked to the other side of his smooth shield but he left the section of wall before them transparent. It took two tries for the nervous tug on his sleeve to get his attention.

"What?"

"Can she see us?"

"I don't think so… What /is/ that…?"

"It's /her/."

"Impossible!" The cultist finally tore his eyes away from the misshaped creature to glare in exasperation at his guest. "I think I would recognize my own goddess…"

"She's not a goddess anymore…" The monstrous woman was more than close enough now to make out the features, and Teo pointed grimly over his taller friend's shoulder, guiding him to look again. "Even Ash-Li recognized her… even he was wary…"

Sydney felt a chill run down his spine as he turned away from the green meadow and back to the wall. She was standing, or as close as she could come to the posture, close enough that if not for the shield he might have reached out and touched her. 

// Oh… my… //

His first impression was of /hair/. Massive shaggy dirty locks of hair were everywhere, tumbling around the face and shoulders like rough ropes. The dark mop of fiber almost completely obscured the top half of the strange body which was a mixed blessing.  The mage felt his hands fist into the loose material of his pants as he forced himself to look closer at the horror. Elongated arms were painfully thin; each of the hands was easily large enough to encircle a barrel. The ragged crone-like fingernails reminded him morbidly of his own mechanical appendages. If her head had been covered in snakes instead of hair he would have instantly named her a Medusa, but there was something frighteningly familiar in the monstrous form. Sydney faintly noted that he was shaking as he forced his eyes off of the serpentine tail and forced himself to look the creature in the face. His breath sounded ragged in his ears.

// Oh no… Not like this… //

The face had lost its once beautiful curves. Grey skin stretched tightly over the hollow cheeks and fell into bruised-looking wrinkles under each of the pale glowing eyes. They in turn had grown huge, nearly lidless as they peered back at him from beneath the matted hair. A mammoth hand slowly came up to rest on the barrier as if trying to reach out to him, and he /knew/.

"…Müllencamp…?" Horrified at what had become of his once lovely mentor he took a hesitant step forward a hand slowly coming up to mimic her gesture. "My Lady…?"

// Funny… in all this time… I didn't think of her… not once… I was so caught up in having Ashley back again that I… Selfish… so selfish… oh dear God what have I done… //

"Stop!! You mustn't let her in!!" Teo latched onto the partly raised arm with desperate strength. The stunned cultist offered little resistance. "Come away… she can /see/ us!"

"Müllencamp…?" He could no more brake away from the milky gaze than if he was set in stone. Transfixed, they stared at one another in equal disbelief. Dry gray lips twitched and stretched back into a ghoulish smile.

"Ssssssssssssssssssssydnnnnnnnnneyyyyyyyyyyyy…" The rattling hiss easily penetrated the wall and despite the monk's increasingly anxious tugs, the cultist stood frozen as tears ran down his cheeks. A second rake-like hand was placed against the barrier, and unbelievably, began to push. The wall seemed to hold firm a moment, but under the focused pressure it began to bend inwards, two dimples forming beneath her palms. Still the mage did nothing.  Bound as they were on some impossible level goddess and servant communed for the first time in centuries. Sydney was lost in the chaotic wash of the demented woman's mind. 

"Sydney, /please/?!" Shaking the man had no effect, his eyes remained fixed on the now straining barrier. Teo looked up to see the first hint that one of the sharp claws had succeeded in piercing the ancient spell. "Oh no…" The shoulders beneath his hands shuddered as the shields threatened to come apart. "Snap out of it boy!"

"SYDNEY!" The roar from behind them was nearly inhuman. It rebounded off the shivering barrier with ear-ringing intensity. Responding to his partner's unspoken stress; the guardian had rematerialized from beyond. His face was a mask of unshakable determination. As if sensing the shift in power, the pressure on the shield abated. The demented goddess hesitated to challenge the new arrival. The dark man stood tensely beside his wavering partner and looked coldly through the barrier.

"Go. This is not for you. Sydney is /mine/… I won't let you take him. /GO/." 

Hissing angrily, the snake-like woman retreated little-by-little until the shield could once again take its customary shape. Free from the oppressive aura, the cultist whimpered in pain before crumpling to the grass. Teo gratefully copied the behavior; his knees had all but turned to water at the sight of the woman almost-breaching the wall. He watched in tired bemusement as the knight planted a rather wicked looking sword point-first into the soft soil and stooped to scoop up his comatose mage. Looking up he was caught by the dark eyes.

"We will discuss /your/ part in this later…"

"I…" Arguing with the furious man seemed more than a little suicidal. He pressed his lips together and nodded silently. 

Ashley carried his burden as carefully as finest crystal as he made his way back towards the distant tower.

*************************

// What do I do? What do I do? WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdoWhatdoIdoWhatdoIdo…? // 

Sydney sat on the balcony, legs hanging through the railing to kick idly at the breeze. He was marginally watching the new waves beat their rhythm on the shore, but in reality his thoughts strayed further.  The cultist wondered if he'd ever shake off this feeling of shocked confusion. Whenever he began to think he had a grasp of things, he found that there was nothing in his hands but air.  Truths he had once thought as solid as the granite beneath him had become hazy, melting into the ever present mist beyond his barrier.

// But that's not right, is it… Mist… isn't the only thing out there… //

He was sorry he had looked, sorry to have been provoked by the visiting monk's idle comment. Sydney now found that he had preferred his ignorance. He glanced over his shoulder at the large form still sleeping in their bed. The man looked exhausted and worried, even at rest. The knight had good reason to be both. 

// Why didn't Ashley tell me?! //

The mage laughed bitterly at himself. // Fool… he was protecting you… You haven't exactly been… stable… now have you. // It was too late now to pretend ignorance. It was too late now for a lot of things.  Feeling indescribably hollow, the blonde gazed out over the leaden surf and tried once again to gather the pieces of the life he used to know. 

// But… what happens now…? //

The ocean continued in its eternal pattern. Dark green water rolled and folded over itself in a suicidal frenzy, slowly crushing the stony shore to sand. The pale froth and twisted seaweed reminded him unpleasantly of entrails.

*************************

After considering it carefully, Ashley found he couldn't truly be angry with the little monk. He had only himself to blame. The dark man watched his mage sit on the shore. Sydney had been uncommonly quiet since his encounter with the goddess; their conversations had become stilted and tense ordeals. The blonde was deliberately distancing himself from everything.

// He's angry because he feels he's been lied to… // 

The Riskbreaker conceded that the cultist had every right to the emotion. Still he couldn't help but worry. Things had been going so well for the mage, for both of them. It had been futile to attempt to postpone the truth from being known, but he had had to try. If only there had been a little more time. If only he had been able to cushion the shock. He gritted his teeth in frustration. The Dark was never something to play by the rules, nor to give any quarter when it could exploit a weakness. And Sydney was still so very weak. As much as the mage had recovered, it was a false sort of durability. There were flaws in the prophet's once impeccable armor, no matter how rested he was, how fore-armed, how prepared, it would only take one well-placed blow to shatter the man completely.

// I won't let that happen…//

"…Sydney…" He crouched next to the curled figure, blinking as the strong wind threatened to blow grit into his eyes. At first he was afraid he would be ignored completely, but after a moment the narrow face tilted to look at him. When it became apparent that the cultist wouldn't speak, the knight sighed and slowly settled next to him. "Not talking to me, hmmm? Alright, I guess I deserve that." He placed a light kiss on the pale forehead. "I'm sorry."

"…That's it…?" Ashley frowned at the tired whisper. "… You're sorry…"

"I should have told you…"

"Yes." The sad blonde returned to his study of the water. "Yes you should have…"

"I was only…"

"I know…"

"Forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive… you did what you thought you had to…"

Ashley gave his companion a confused look. "Then you're not angry?"

"Maybe, but not with you…" Sydney blinked as they were caught in a burst of spray. "This isn't your fault after all… it's /mine/…"

"I don't understand…"

"No, you weren't here… You were long gone by then…Chang… he tried to warn me… that something might happen…"

"Chang?" The Riskbreaker was hopelessly lost.

"'Tis no matter… what's done is done… now there is only the question of how to repair the damage…" 

"Surely there is something we can do…"

The mage turned to watch him once again, his expression haunted. "Is there? I wonder…I have been thinking all this time…"

"…and?"

"… and there is nothing… I can think of nothing at all…"

"Oh." Feeling more than a little useless, Ashley pulled the smaller man into his lap. The sky was overcast and grey with the mage's mood and the sea breeze was chilling. Using his arms and body as a make-shift shelter, the knight cradled his partner against his chest. There had to be /something/…where there was life, was there not hope? His blonde slowly relaxed against his warmth; head tilted back a little to rest in the hollow beneath his chin. 

"She's in such pain… Ashley… So lonely… I thought I could… I don't know… /help/… but it wasn't enough… She's too far gone to understand."

"It's hard to say if she even recognized you…"

The resting head shook slightly. "No, she did, right before you came… she said my name…"

"She spoke?" The guardian unconsciously tightened his protective grip. Sydney murmured appreciatively at the gesture, curling his hands around one of the muscled forearms.

"I'm afraid…"

"Of her…?"

"… for her, perhaps." The cultist slouched backwards a little more, leaning into the steady presence of his lover. "I… I think I know what I have to do, Ashley…" His head dipped forward in a familiar curl. He was hiding his face in the cloud of pale hair as he only did when deeply distressed. The knight leaned forwards a little as well, resting his cheek against the silky mass in a gesture of support. 

"I think I have to kill her… I think I will have to kill the only mother I have ever known…"

They sat in silence on the beach long after the sun sank down. The Riskbreaker gently cradling his mage as the smaller man wordlessly wept comfortless tears.

*************************

Yet another evening was passing in its quiet way in the small temple guest house. Pei was calmly brewing tea out on the porch, while he methodically went through the ritual of disassembling and oiling his guns. The grey metal parts were laid out in their traditional pattern on the worn cloth as he picked them up one by one to wipe them reverently with the slick rag. In a way it was an unorthodox form of meditation. Liet looked up as a steaming cup was placed delicately at his elbow.

"Thank you."

"It amazes me that you can do that so often, and yet not lose any of those little pieces?" The demoness smirked in amusement as she picked up one of the pins. "I mean… what would happen if I were to take this little thing and… throw it in the well for instance…?"

"You had better believe that I'd be tossing you in after it, my girl."

The forest woman laughed and set the piece back in its place on the blanket. "In that case I shall forbear on the thought."

"I rather wish you would." Hands moving quickly now, he began snapping the array of pieces back together, starting with the barrel and working his way towards the stock. He gave the completed gun a celebratory twirl on his finger before tucking it carefully away. Without ammunition it was truly only so much useless dead weight, but he kept the pair in the bottom of his bag anyway. When he returned to civilization, they might come in handy; if he ever returned. He settled himself next to the quiet woman with a sigh. Although neither of them had much reason to stay in the religious sanctuary, they never spoke of leaving, either individually or together. It seemed that Pei was content to wait on the faint hope of a reunion with some distant relative. At least her motivations were more understandable then his own. "Do you think you'll ever see them? Your long-lost family?"

"… I don't know… but it seems foolish to pass up such a chance…"

"And you'll stay here until all hope is gone?"

"I believe in Ash-Li… He will not forget about me…"

"I wonder…"

"What of you, old man…? What are /you/ waiting for?"

Liet smiled cheerfully at the russet colored sunset. "Who knows… a miracle perhaps…?" He sipped his tea. "…Or maybe I'm waiting for you…"

Even without looking at her he could see her incredulous stare. "Me? Whatever for?"

"It would hardly be gentlemanly to leave a young lady abandoned… Even if I wanted to go, which I can't say I do… it would be poor taste to leave before seeing you safely into the arms of your family."

Pei snorted in amusement. "I see, so it is a matter of honor then?"

"Among other things…" Finally the weight of her stare got to be too much to ignore and he turned to look at her. She really was remarkably pretty, maybe even more so than the woman she had been intended to resemble. "Why do you still wear your glamour? I doubt anyone here cares what you look like one way or the other…"

"Oh, /that/ is a /fine/ compliment!"

He blinked, clueless. "What? What's the matter with that… I mean they're monks after all… most of them are supposed to have foresworn pretty girls along with any number of other pleasant things…"

"And what about you?"

Liet tried not to squirm under the direct gaze. "Look however you please, woman. I'm not your father to tell you how to dress…" He was grimly thankful that the tangerine sunlight would likely disguise any hint of blush on his cheeks.

"I see…" His companion displayed a maturity beyond her years in letting the subject gracefully drop. "I wonder though… What if Ash can't find my family…? What if they are all gone? What then…"

"Surely there will be /someone/…"

"Surely…"

"You could… always come with me… when I go back west…" She looked over to find the man was once more studiously watching the paving stones. Pei allowed herself a small smile.

"What, and live in a big city? I wouldn't know the first thing about it…"

"It's no so hard really… just like a village really, but louder, and less polite… and with more traffic."

"What a tempting picture you paint." He shrugged at her teasing drawl. "And what sort of employment would we pursue? A return to the criminal society?"

"Maybe… or I could get a real job… It wouldn't be so hard to fake some papers and start over in a new city… Hong Kong maybe."

"…maybe… we'll just have to wait and see, won't we…"

"Why not." They sat on the porch nodding to the passing monks and novices until it was time for bed.

*************************

Sydney took his time combing the last tangles out of his hair before blowing out the lamp and sliding into bed. The warm body beside him immediately shifted and drew him close, pulling the blankets around him.  So ingrained was the pattern that they barely had to work at all to settle themselves together in a comfortable sprawl. The mage fitted himself against the larger man's side without even thinking about it; only amused at how easily the pose came to him after his head was resting in its customary place beneath the smooth chin and against the well-padded shoulder.

// You would think we were made for each other… // The sardonic thought almost made him laugh.  Despite the feeling of comfort that the knight's presence invariably brought, he couldn't help but remain a little on edge. Things had been strained between them for days after his encounter with the goddess, and now that his plans were finalized and out in the open, it had only gotten worse.  The Riskbreaker didn't understand, but how could he? What he was asking the man to do went against everything the knight stood for. Sydney placed a consoling kiss against the larger man's neck, sensing the tension beneath the smooth skin.

// Any time now, Ashley… You're anything if not predictable at times like this… //

"Why won't you let me help you…?"

"Because this isn't your fight."

"You've stuck your nose in any number of /my/ fights and I never once begrudged you…"

"No, but then you never definitively wanted me to /not/ participate… except that one time, and then you /lied/ to me… At least I am being honest. I don't want you to fight with me…"

"I didn't lie…"

"Deliberately concealing the truth is the same as lying, beloved… 'sins of omission' I believe is the term? Don't you think I'd have much rather have discussed it with you than to have found out about your untimely end /after/ the fact?"

"Am I just to stand idly by as you face this alone then?"

"You can't help me, Ashley. If I thought for a minute that letting you take my place in this would be to my advantage… don't you think I'd be considering it?" The blonde nuzzled the warm flesh beneath his cheek. "Do you think I am /that/ enamored with playing 'hero'? I'd much rather leave such things to you… you're the one who had the undisputed corner on that market." The small joke sat uneasily in the tense room.

"I won't let you face her alone… I can't."

"Ashley…"

"/Please/ Sydney…" The Riskbreaker had given up all pretence of preparing for sleep as he sat up.  There was no hiding the frightened edge to the deep voice. "If something were to happen…"

// This must be your idea of hell, isn't it… to be forced to the sidelines as I face some impossible task? Funny, I never thought a day like this would ever come… //

"Have you ever considered, Riskbreaker… That this is going to be a 'lose-lose' battle no matter what we do?" 

"Better that we face it together then…?"

"No Ashley."

"I don't understand." Sydney took a moment to appreciate the way the artificial-moonlight highlighted the sharply defined muscles of the knight's arms and back before sitting up and wrapping himself around the stiff body. Captured from behind, the larger man remained inflexible as feathery kisses were applied to the back of his neck.

"Think a minute then… What happens if I face her tomorrow… and fail?"

"We all die… and the world probably comes to an end."

The mage smiled at how mundane the worst case outcome sounded. If there was anyone for whom such horrors had become commonplace over the years, it was Ashley. "Very well, and now… let's say that by some outrageous stroke of fortune… I win tomorrow… I defeat her… when then?"

He felt the dark man shift slightly as he bent his mind to the alternatives. "If Müllencamp dies? I… don't know… We don't get eaten I suppose…?" The Riskbreaker relaxed enough to turn his head and look curiously at his mage. "What does happen?" He frowned. "If I die… The Rood breaks and 'very bad things' happen to the world, right? Wouldn't it be worse if she dies?"

The cultist shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe it will be that I can not kill her… maybe she will rise from her own ashes like Teo did, and thus will be remade… maybe… maybe the world will come to an end anyway… maybe when she dies, the Dark will die with her… It's rather hard to say."

"If the Dark ceases to be… what happens to you?"

"I will likely be unmade… and you will doubtlessly be severely injured or even killed by the shock of separation from the Rood…"

"Unacceptable."

"Would you rather I lost then?"

"I would rather you survived." 

Sydney tightened his awkward grip on the muscled shoulders. "Believe me, so would I." His fervent agreement seemed to do the trick, and he smiled as he was swept up into a tight embrace. "Besides, you're not going to be doing /nothing/… without you, I wouldn't even dream of pulling this off."

"What do you need me to do…?"

"You're going to put me on almost even footing with a god." He smirked at the startled look. "So surprised? You went toe-to-toe with an angel once, do you remember? The power of the Rood is nothing to sniff at, I should know, I used to wear it…"

"It's yours for the asking."

"No Ashley, I like it just fine where it is… besides, your being in the material world will provide you with valuable shelter. You will be my unshakable anchor…" The blonde hesitated. "It will not be easy…"

"That's why I can't stay? You think I will be safer if I'm outside the Shadows?"

"I don't know what is going to happen to this place should she and I fight in earnest, Riskbreaker, but I do know that I won't be able to protect you and myself at the same time… I'm not that good. I'll likely be barely capable of keeping track of my own mind… It… would be far easier for me if I knew you were beyond her reach." With his ear pressed against the large chest the man's grumble of acceptance sounded almost like an angry bear's complaint. 

"I still don't like this…"

"I know."

"Is there no other way?"

"None that I can think of…" The quiet statement had an unspoken question to it, but Ashley had no alternatives to offer. The mage was right, it wasn't his fight. He tensed his hold on the slender man. Sighing in contentment, the blonde curled closer. "I'm scared, Ashley…"

"Of her?"

"… Of everything… of losing you… What if I am wrong…?"

"You're not…"

"But what if I /am/…"

"Then we'll deal with it when we get there… Have faith, whelp. I do."

"In what…?"

"In you, of course." The warm chuckle was amazingly soothing in the darkness. Settling back into the bed, they moved against each other more out of need for comfort than from any real desire. All too soon the hands stroking the mage's sides slowed then stopped in favor of pulling him close again. There were no worries left to share, everything that could be known was known; the rest was out of their control. Sydney tangled his fingers in the soft hair of the Riskbreaker's tails and pulled him down for a kiss before returning to his favorite sleeping spot. His thoughts buzzed around with frightened energy and he doubted he would get any sleep at all. Somehow the steady heartbeat beneath his ear caught his attention however, and little by little the low sound lulled him into a peaceful doze. Ashley stared for long hours at the smooth arched ceiling, and silently waited for morning to come.

*************************

Anton's breath steamed the air as he quickly jogged down the street to the post office.  Even with the layer of sand and salt on the sidewalk he found his feet had a distressing tendency to not stay beneath him as they should. At least he had a warm jacket this year. The fleecy wool was heavy, but very appreciated once the winds started to blow. Usually Maryland wasn't this cold. There was something strange in the air. Panting for breath he leaned against the wooden door and all but fell into the cheery room.

"Wait… I'm here…"

"Took you long enough…"

"You didn't have to come all the way out here, Ant… It's freezing!"

Moimoi scoffed at the bard's worried comment; she boasted proudly and often that she had once been someplace so cold that her spit had frozen before it hit the ground. There was no repetition of the story today. She and one of her gang were wearing their uniform coats even in the small office's warmth, and looked rather menacing. One girl slouched on either side of the door. "You were almost too late."

"I'm sorry, I came as fast as I could… hello… Val…"

"Hey there!" The dark haired boy had shed his jacket and gloves in order to sit comfortably as he hunched over a last-minute letter. He spared a moment to look up and smile at his worried friends. "You all look so grim! Relax… the worst has already happened! What /else/ could go wrong…" His grin faltered and he quickly turned back to hastily scrawling a long note.

"Who are you writing to?"

"Mason, or at least Mason's house." Valor pressed too hard for a moment and accidentally broke his pencil. He silently stood to sharpen it, very carefully not swearing. "I don't want him to worry… when he gets back, if he gets back…"

"… A storm is coming." They all stopped and stared at the soft comment. Az had seemed almost invisible before he spoke, his lanky body blending all-too-easily into the background as he stared out a frosted window. The familiar, dressed in his customary black turned slowly to study his mage with his strange monochromatic stare. "We should go."

"The train will be here any minute, Val…"

"I know, Moimoi…" The thin boy somehow managed to stuff the wad of paper into the envelope and licked it shut. The elderly postman behind the counter woke up just long enough to sell him the stamps before shuffling back to his chair in the storeroom.

"I can't believe you're leaving…"

"That's life for you…"

"But you /didn't/ do it!" 

"Ah, but since when has /my/ opinion mattered… They /think/ I did it… And so off I go."

Anton stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets to somehow relieve his anxious guilt. Nothing had been the same after their missing friend's departure. It was as if Mason had provided some vital anchor to their fellowship. After he left things had gotten complicated, and frightening, and now /this/. He wondered when they had all stopped being children together; when had life started to get so serious. "… Nelson did it…" After the initial difficult words, it came easier, pouring out of him in a miserable rush. "He didn't tell me, of course… but I… found out, but when I cornered him about it he wouldn't say WHY… I thought… I thought he was our friend… I thought I knew him…"

"He probably had his reasons. His family probably put him up to it."

"Yes, well, he can keep them."

"… Ant?"

"Nelly and I… we've decided that perhaps we made a mistake… I'm too much of a /risk/ for him… and well… he's not who I thought he was anyway…"

"He /dumped you/?!"

The usually mild-mannered mage trainee smiled in an unfriendly way. "No Val… I dumped him."

"Way to go Mage!" Moimoi thumped her boot appreciatively. "I always knew there was something fishy about that jerk!"

"But you two…" The bard gave up as his friend mutely shook his head. 

"How could I stay with him… there are some things you can't forgive a person."

"So much for 'love conquers all'… huh?"

Anton simply shrugged, the last thing he wanted to do was burden his friend with another worry. "I'll be fine… but I think I'd like to speak to Az for a moment." The quiet boy in the corner gave him a curious stare before following him outside. They watched as the rest of the group helped Val into his coat and trundled him and his bags down the street to the train station. "Do you guys even know where you're going?"

"He has an idea or two… forgive me if I don't share them with you."

"No, no I understand… the less we know the better right…? This is insane, like some bad comic-book plot! What the hell was the dean thinking, expelling Val in the middle of winter… He /knows/ Val is a special case student… He /knows/ that there's no family to challenge the decision… How could he…"

"Valor would say, 'money speaks louder than reason'."

"Val's got to learn to take that 'kick me' sign off his ass." His uncharacteristically bitter comment earned him another curious stare. "Well he does! But enough of that…" The mage pulled off his glove with his teeth and fumbled a hand into the pocket of his pants. "I have… something. Here." He held out a parting gift. Anyone who didn't know Anton's family might have been amazed at the solid wad of bills that the boy produced at such short notice. The dusky-skinned mage pressed the bundle into Az's startled fingers. The familiar gingerly unfolded and thumbed through the stack.

"There has to be close to three hundred dollars here…"(**)

"Birthday, Christmas, and New Year's present… as well as some general savings… and whatever the pawnshop could give me for Nelson's trash…It was all I could come up with." The Nigerian looked sad. "I wish it had been more…"

"I see you kept the jacket."

"Believe me I would have hocked it too… except for the fact that I got rid of my old one…"

"Valor would say… the he couldn't accept a gift like this."

"Yeah well, that's why I gave it to /you/… Something tells me that you're either smarter or more pragmatic than our little romantic musician over there." The black-clad boy smiled humorlessly.

"And what am I to tell him?"

"Tell him whatever you want, say I slipped it into your pocket, say I threatened you with it, say it fell from the sky. Just promise me that you'll /use/ it! I don't need it, my parents can always give me more… and I keep having these nightmares of him sleeping in a bus-station or something… so please… please take it." Az watched the trainee struggle to put his glove back on over chilled fingers before tucking the gift away and moving to assist. He seemed to be considering something carefully, and after a silent moment produced a small feather from inside his sleeve and tucked it into the mage's pocket.

"We shall call it an exchange, I think; a gift for a gift. Keep it safe mageling, keep it hidden. If you should ever be in need, simply break it in two, and I shall know. I will help if I can."

"… thankyou."

The familiar looked up at the leaden sky again, seeming preoccupied with something intangible. "… I should like to get Val to shelter before the storm hits… but the train will have to do... It will be a dangerous one, I think."

Anton looked up as well, and had to admit, he felt something shifting in the air around them. "Somehow, I think you're right."

Together they walked over to the snowy platform where the others waited. He waived goodbye long after the bard's train was gone. Moimoi sighed and accepted the illicit cigarette that her friend had lit, taking a drag and then passing it to the mage.

"And that's that. The old group is gone. Funny really, Val was the most useless guy to have in a fight that I've ever met… and still… I'll miss the pretty bastard."

"He was a good friend." Anton tried not to cough as the unfamiliar taste of tobacco filled his mouth. "Uggh, remind me to not do that again." The other two simply laughed.

"So what happens now, oh last-of-the-sane mages? Want me to kick your Ex in the nuts for you? Just to share /my/ sentiments on the little Judas' recent behavior?"

"Do as you like, Moi… I just plan on finishing this last semester… and getting out of here.  Somehow, I've gotten sort of tired of this place."

"No kidding." The trio slogged their way back to the dorms before splitting off into boy's and girl's buildings. The mage felt strangely old as he climbed the last flight of stairs to his room, the lounge at the top had only one occupant. Blonde hair was highlighted by the cheery fire as the last member of their old group sat waiting.

"Ant… I…"

It was easy --frighteningly easy-- to ignore both the distressed voice and out-stretched hand. He moved down the hall steadily, self-sufficiently. Had he looked back, he might have been amazed at the stricken look on the other mage's face. For once Anton understood Val's strange bravery. It wasn't a strength that allowed a person to beat down their enemies or march in protests, or take things to court. The bard was too gentle for such aggressive emotions. It was a strength that came from knowing, that even if things got worse, it didn't matter anymore. There was only so much 'bad' anyone could process before 'worse' became indistinguishable from the day-to-day. He had reached his limit for what he could feel for the year. Any further shocks would just have to wait their turn. With shaking hands he shut and locked his door.

*************************

"That's it?"

Sydney looked up at the grim question, glancing around for the first time since he had started his meditation. Outside the work room's window was a strange blank white. All of the work they had put into their beloved home over the last month had been cleanly, efficiently wiped away. The tower was all there was. He closed his eyes and tested the well of power that had once been rocks and trees and water and sky. It made an impressive bundle, when reduced to its pure form. He would be adding to it soon enough, but the upcoming battle would need more than just pure strength. It was a worry he kept to himself. The Riskbreaker looked anxious enough already, obviously fighting with himself for every minute that passed by without some protest being uttered.

"Almost… only the barrier is left… and the tower itself… but those will have to come last." He sighed and let the knight help him to his feet. "Now… where is Teo?"

"I'll get him." 

It was hard not to fidget as he waited. Determined to focus his nervous energy on something productive, the blonde compulsively checked and rechecked the curving lines carved into the floor. The magic circle was as strong as it could get. There was nothing more to add. It would either work, or not. Hesitant footsteps on the stairs up from the library reminded him of why the wards were so important.

"Come in, Teo."

"Is it supposed to be glowing like that?"

"Yes." The mage looked up and caught Ashley's eye. "I think perhaps, it is time for you to go… make sure the temple is ready, and then settle yourself… I'll wait for your signal." 

Lips pressed tight against any last minute doubts, the guardian moved forward and gathered him up in an almost bone-crushing embrace. "You can do this."

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to talk me out of my insanity?"

The dark eyes were filled with quiet fears. "It's too late for that, isn't it…"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

// I love you. // The thought bled formlessly into the mage's mind as he leaned into a last kiss, threatening to make his eyes prickle with tears for the thousandth time since his return to the living. It seemed that crying was all he was good for any more. He pushed the stupid thought away, reaching out with whatever comfort he could muster. 

// I know. // In a flicker, the large man was gone. Sydney nervously wiped his palms on his leather pants before turning to face the one last problem at hand. The monk was trying very hard to look small and unobtrusive as he studied the curling lines on the floor. The cultist rolled his eyes at the man's attempt to give them some privacy.

"Teo." Suddenly aware that he was the only other person left in the room, the short Asian looked around with a start.

Not for the first time, Sydney felt rather guilty that the poor monk had to be involved with the whole mess. "It's time to decide Teo…" He gestured around the room.

"Things are going to get… very… dangerous here for a while. I can make you no guarantees as to what will happen if you stay."

"So I can either choose to die now… or let death find me later?"

The cultist shrugged. "If things go badly… there is no telling what will happen to either of us… Death isn't the worst by any stretch of the imagination."

"Delightful." The monk scratched his chin thoughtfully. "One the one hand… I really don't feel ready to die quite yet… On the other… I don't want to be the burden on you that makes this whole exercise a waste of time…"

"Somehow, I doubt the magic it will take to try and protect you will really matter in the long run… With all the energy that's going to be tossed around I'm more worried about whether or not it's even worth the attempt."

"I think it is… but then it's /my/ life -or rather my afterlife- that we're discussing here…"

"I thought you might look at it that way…" The blonde smiled in amusement. "Very well Master Teo, if you will kindly position yourself in the center… I shall begin."

"Is there anything I should know?"

Sydney considered the question as he sealed the ring. The former Rood Bearer was now wrapped in more protections than even the tower itself, but there was always risk. "Yes. No matter what, do not move, and do not touch the boundaries…" He smirked. "Also, do not be surprised if the tower dissolves at some point, all it means is that I can't afford to waste the energy to maintain it."

"Very well…" Teo settled himself on the small piece of floor available to him. "… Good luck, Sydney."

"You too." 

*************************

Given the limited notice, the temple had mobilized with remarkable efficiency. Ancient texts and scrolls were loaded into trunks and onto the backs of willing monks who stretched down the long stair case in a quickly moving line. For many of the marchers this was their second or even third trip down the mountain. It seemed they were taking his warning to heart, stripping all that was of any value from the ancient buildings. Ashley came awake to the sound of hushed exodus.

"Ah, you've come back then… Everything is happening as you instructed, we have set up a camp inside the forest village, and they have most generously offered us their protection."

"As it should be, you have looked after /them/ for the better part of five centuries…" He blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. "What do the signs say?"

Master Shu Lao smiled grimly. "Utter nonsense, some point to a great cataclysm, others point to a great blessing, still others say that tomorrow it will rain rice-bran or that the sun will burn at midnight or… that the forecaster will get a hang-nail… take your pick. Never in my life have I seen such muddled readings."

"Makes sense I suppose, the Dark is getting anxious."

"Speaking of that… We had to double bar the doors to the catacombs… there were things… that we though would be better off not seeing the light of day."

"What sort of things…"

"It is wrong to speak ill of the dead, Bearer."

"Ah, /those/ sorts of things."

"Indeed. Should the buildings remain intact after this ordeal of yours… someone is going to have a hell of a time sorting all the crypts out."

"It can't be helped."

Liet poked his head in the door. "Master, your elder would like a word… oh! Ash! You're up? Good, I'll tell the others to come here instead." He ducked back out into the slow moving crowd of evacuees only to reappear minutes later with several other monks and the forest woman in tow.

"How do you feel Ash…" The demoness knelt next to him carefully. "You've been sleeping for some time."

"Things could be better…" He gave her a supportive smile before turning to look at the unofficial council that had gathered in front of him. "How much longer?"

"The packing is done. Tt probably won't take more than another hour to get the last of the stragglers on their way."

"That's good," Ashley gave the elder a guilty bow. "I'm sorry I've caused all this trouble."

"Sometimes bad things happen, child. We've learned to take it in stride."

"You're staying here…?" The gunman chewed his lip unconsciously.

"Yes."

"Should someone stay with you?"

"It would be dangerous."

"Screw that, I didn't ask if it was dangerous, I asked if it would help."

The guardian shrugged. "Yes, probably… I don't know how much I'll be able to pay attention to 'here' with what will be happening 'there'… and things are probably going to get… lively."

"Fine then, I'll stay." Decision made, the assassin didn't wait to see who would disagree. He ducked into the side room only to return with Ashley's old shotgun and a box of shells. The Riskbreaker raised an eyebrow at the unlikely find. "What, I paid dearly for these… took /forever/ to get them too."

"Have you ever /used/ a gun that big?"

"Hush."

"I'm staying too." Peilei shrugged as the rest of the room stared at her. "The old man needs /someone/ to watch his back." 

"My talents may also be of some use…" Shu Lao's face had its usual grumpy resolve but his tone was almost cheerful.

"My my, it seems all that is needed is one more priest, just to give the group a rounded feel… Five is a good number, isn't it Bearer? A lucky number perhaps… And it's been a long time since I've had a good adventure…"

"Master Sougi?!" The monks stared at their elder in shock.

"What, you think I'm unfit? Bah I say! I can still take on any of you young ones!"

"It's too dangerous!"

"You didn't say that when Shu volunteered!" He rounded on the protesters with good humor. "I'm staying! That's final!"

Ashley could only chuckle at the old man's antics. "If that is your wish, then I am glad to have you with me."  

"It's settled then!" The group stared at each other for a silent moment as they realized what they had just volunteered for. The old monk chuckled nervously and waived for his followers to hasten the pace a little. "Well… shall we adjourn to the temple?"

*************************

There was nothing else to be done.  The simple door clicked shut behind him with a whisper of wood on stone. Sydney smoothed the front of the dark jacket nervously before picking his way down the path.  He had considered dressing differently, but really, what sort of apparel was customary when you are going out to kill a loved one? The mage shook his head at the idiotic thought. Armor was useless, he might as well go naked for all the help an added layer of cloth or steel would help in the upcoming struggle. In the end he wore black. It was customary after all.

// You can never go wrong with black… always makes a statement… and besides… it hides the blood stains. // 

The cultist winced as his thoughts got away from him again. He was nervous, there was no denying it. Squaring his shoulders he walked quickly through the empty spaces where his woods and Ashley's meadow had once coexisted. The simple structural beauty of the smooth rolling hills made him pause, taking in one last long look at the world in the light of its shimmering barrier. Over a month of careful painstaking labor had gone into even the sparse interpretation of their once lush paradise. It was criminal to have laid waste to the area a second time. The blonde smiled grimly, knowing full well that it was going to get worse..

// It can be rebuilt… // He closed his eyes. // When this is all over… it /will/ be rebuilt… Just like before…/better/ even… //  It wasn't a particularly cheerful thought, but it was hopeful and at the moment it was the best he could manage.

"Don't dawdle, Sydney…" The mage shook his head in agreement with his murmur. "Yes, get on with it… shouldn't keep a lady waiting…" 

Reaching the end of his tiny domain he turned back one final time, and held out a hand. There was no particular trick to it, to find a loose thread in the tightly woven enchantments of the bare landscape. It took only a gentle tug to set the whole process in motion. His arm tingled painfully as he called the energy home. All around him the world became hazy and indistinct, and then gradually became nothing at all. Only two specks of color remained in the vast white space inside the pearly shields. The lush green of Ashley's oak would only fade with the death of its maker, and the distant tower remained because it was necessary for it to do so.  The cultist considered the problem, and gently poked the floating island that contained the last of the meadow a little closer to the one holding his tower. The two cores easily reknit themselves into a single island of rock and dirt, marble and oak. He shrugged at the little kidney-bean shaped landmass. There was an odd symmetry to it, with the tree on one end and the tower on the other. It was strange to look at such an odd collection of objects and still feel a powerful sense of /home/.  

// I wonder… if this place hasn't become more of a home to me than any I had in the Waking world… Would I go back if I could? Or have I become too enmeshed with it all…? No way of knowing is there… Doesn't matter… // 

With a sigh, he repeated the lengthily process on the shields themselves. They were already damaged, and would likely not sustain another direct assault from the over-eager goddess. He tugged at the frayed spells and then deeper at the reservoirs fueling them, bundling the energies deep inside him. When the last of the barriers dissolved, the remains of his little world would have to defend themselves. Sydney grimly hoped that something of the oak tree's invulnerability would provide and additional barrier for his tower, and for Teo. They would all have to fend for themselves now. The blonde watched as the unceasing mists of the Shadows quickly filled up the void where his world had been, obscuring his view of the green and white blotch in the distance. After the clear skies inside the shields, he felt almost blinded as the fog enveloped him.

// … Yes, just as cold and damp as I remembered… disgusting stuff. And is it just me… or has it gotten /worse/… //

He could barely see two feet in front of his face, much less any dangers lurking in the distance. Luckily there were other ways of tracking something in the vast misty spaces. The cultist could feel Müllencamp's presence every time he closed his eyes and he wondered for a moment if she felt him as well.

// She must have… or else why would she have come so quickly… Maybe… maybe she was just lonely… // He turned the idea over carefully. // She would have seen the barriers as an enemy then, something keeping us apart… taking me away… that is why she attacked them… I would be angry too… after so long… to be tempted with a promise of something and have it taken away…//  

The blonde could intimately relate to that hollow feeling. Even with his Riskbreaker as a flicker at the edge of his thoughts, sometimes it still threatened to overwhelm him. Ashley had never stopped moving, even in death he had fought and searched and worked his hardest to return… he had never had periods of long empty time to really brood on what it was to be alone. 

It occurred to the mage that he too /could/ have kept busy. 

He bit his lip, and buried his thoughts carefully before reaching for his absent lover. Opening up the idea of Müllencamp as a victim in this whole affair would probably only lead to an argument. Ashley could only see her as a threat now; he wouldn't understand.

//… Ashley… // There was a moment when he could feel the larger man's distraction, but soon enough the distant mind focused on him. The knight was like the warmth of mellow firelight on his face, a thousand familiar and comforting sounds, and tastes and smells. The blonde didn't realize he had fallen silent until the Riskbreaker prodded him gently.

// Oi. What's happening down there, I felt something …/weird/… a few minutes ago… //

// That was me… I think… I'm ready. What about you? // 

// They decided to not sacrifice the goat, but aside from that, I'm as protected as I can get from things /here/… Frankly I'm more worried about what will happen when the Dark starts getting riled… //

// It will start looking for weak points… It will try to escape wherever possible… //

// …weak points… like me? // The dark humor in the comment plainly told what the guardian thought of the idea.

// You and all the other Well Springs… but I think perhaps it will be the worst for you… because you, through me, will be at the core of the problem… //

// I always wanted to see ground-zero… Sorta make me wish I could call and warn some people… I'm betting they're going to get a nasty shock. //

The cultist smiled wickedly, // Oh but it gets better, darling… since the last remnants of that 'curse' of yours will probably be the first thing to collapse… when this is all over… /somebody/ is going to have a lot of cleaning up to do… //

// Flaring Well Springs… and curious mages tampering with things they've never seen before… Oh fun. //

// You brought it on yourself… //

//You're really enjoying this, aren't you whelp. //

// You have no idea… // Sydney felt a shifting in the mists around him and stopped to listen. The amusement of his partner's thoughts faded into steady anticipation. Suddenly serious, they prepared themselves for the task at hand.

// What are you planning… frontal assault might work… the less she expects it the better. //

// I don't know yet… I think this will have to be done by feel… //

// Sydney, don't underestimate her! // The mage cringed at his angry yell. He knew why the knight was afraid, but there was nothing he could do to help the man.

// I'm not you, Ashley… I have to do things my own way. // He smiled a little, surprised at the truth in the words even as he said them. // Besides, I trust you to keep me out of any /real/ danger… //

// Don't even joke about that… There's little I can do from here… and you bloody well won't let me join you there. //

// It will be alright, love… somehow… you'll see. Now go and ground yourself, you'll do me no good if you get overloaded in the first two minutes. // He sighed in relief as the older man's grumbles faded. After a moment's hesitation he blocked the link as well. The less the man knew, the less he could protest.

It was hard to keep up an optimistic front for his lover, and he didn't want to take the chance of him seeing through it. Sydney picked his way through the mist carefully. He had to see her again, try and /speak/ with her. It seemed certain that her actions back at the barrier were more /reactions/. She had only responded to his fear… his rejection. If he could face her honestly, tell her that he still loved and needed her, surely she would listen. Even if she couldn't understand the words… she would know she wasn't alone. 

// If I can just keep her calm… she didn't really mean to attack me… I just got overwhelmed, that's all. // 

This time, the mage knew what to expect.

 // I was too weak before… too unprepared… It will be different this time, I just know it. She /remembers/ me… If I can make her remember herself… we wouldn't need to fight at all… // 

*************************

// What is he thinking…? //  

The answer was of course that his blonde was thinking any number of things. What he should have asked was 'is he thinking what I think he is?', and that wasn't an appealing thought at all.  Ashley sighed and rattled his chains once for old-time's sake. His companions did their level best to not nervously jump at the sound. The abandoned temple had an uncanny energy about it, not surprising for a building built right above of one of the largest Well Spring in Asia. The guardian could almost hear Things stirring in the floors beneath him. The creatures were still newly awakened and groggy, contentedly wandering behind barred doors. That probably wouldn't last long. If things were to get as exciting as he anticipated them getting, there was no telling what those sleepy litches and skeletons would do. He hoped the little village down the mountain had repainted the wards on their walls. They would probably need them before the night was over.  The last orange glow of sunset was creeping through paper screens in the windows. Ashley watched the tinted light hit the curls of smoke from the incense and turn them into plumes of orange and pink.  

// I should send them away… this entire place could be reduced to smoke and splinters… //

It was too uncomfortable to sit up with the chains tacking down his wrists and ankles. He had protested them at first, but the old monks had brought up a good point. At the very least they would keep him stationary should he lose memory of where he was. It would ruin several hours of careful work if he smeared one of the hundreds of looping lines circling his camping bed.  A person sat at each of the ordinal corners of his make-shift shelter/prison. Pei was closest to the altar as she perched on the eastern corner. She had shed her customary illusions for fear they would weaken the spells in the room. The candlelight made her appear almost metallic as the scales on her elongated face flashed and gleamed when she shifted. She had procured one of his swords for her duties and Widowmaker was leaning quietly against her shoulder. He had worried that the blade would be too heavy for her, but she had simply given him a long look and swung it hard enough to destroy a fencepost. The argument had pretty much ended there. Turning his head to the other side, he smiled at Liet's mask of calm concentration. The gunman was having an easier time of it than he had expected, but then in times of crisis some people just found it easier to /act/ rather than stand idly by. Providing the second half of his physical defense, the assassin was also sporting a long piece of steel, but his was in the form of the well used shot-gun. Dark eyes caught his for a moment, and the small man smirked.

"Getting cold feet?"

"Bah."

Shu Lao simply snorted at the comment, prayer beads a tidy pile in his lap. His master was far more relaxed. Perched in the north corner and behind Ashley's head, the old man was quietly humming a farming song while toying with a nearby stick of incense. 

"It seems to be time… shall we begin?" The guardian craned his head to look back at the oldest monk at the mild question.

"Might as well…" He tried to settle himself comfortably as the two monks began to chant. Closing his eyes, the Riskbreaker focused on his breathing, willing himself into a mid-level meditation. Ashley gave the Rood now burning on his back an experimental tug, and was gratified to find the flow of power was still smooth. It probably wouldn't stay that way but for the moment, he was ready. Now there was nothing to do but to wait, and pray.

*************************

'Here' and 'There' really made no sense as descriptive words when one walked in the Shadows. It wasn't that surprising, given what the dreamy world was spawned from. Sydney mused as he walked, knowing without need for signs that he was almost at his destination. Strangely, he felt no fear at the idea of meeting the ragged creature again. Now that he knew she and the goddess were one, there was only determination and maybe a little pity.  He didn't know what had happened to drive her to this, but he would do whatever it took to put things back together again. His loyalty was unshakable; he owed her that much for all she had done for him. 

// I almost can't remember a time before Müllencamp… she was /always/ there… even when I didn't know her yet… // He batted at the clinging vapor as he moved. // From my first day of training… or maybe even before…? She was there… when they left me behind to go to the funeral… but before that? When mother was alive…? I can't remember. // His first real memory of the laughing presence in his head had been on that empty day. The nurse had fallen asleep in her chair at the sound of the rain, and he had been left alone with his misery.  For a moment he could still feel the sharp sting on his once childishly-plump cheek. The bruise from his father's slap had remained long after the man himself was gone. 

// Not that I can blame him… the last thing he had probably needed was a screaming child that night… // 

Still, it had hurt. Not just the physical pain, but the rejection it implied. Sydney had never doubted he was his mother's child, and with the beautiful woman gone he had known he would be next. The mourning Duke had loved too deep and too well to serenely cope with her young doppelganger wandering around the house after his nanny. Or so he had thought. It wasn't until years later that he began to wonder what fate would have intended had the pale woman not died.

// She was from Leá Monde too, after all… another escaped-heretic-posing-as-a-respectable-lady… she had to know the family secrets… his plans… would she have sent me off to learn from the cult just the same? Would they have waited? // Such questions were futile, and he didn't need any more reminders of past pain. His current troubles were sufficient.

// But Müllencamp was there… she kept me company when I cried… and on the long trip to the secret city… I couldn't see her, but I heard… she sang to me… all through the night. // 

It hadn't been until later -- until the eve of his sixteenth birthday-- that he finally saw her with his own eyes. The cultist smirked, thinking how much it had probably cost his father for the woman to project through him into the Waking world for that critical moment. The older Barbadora hadn't half the stamina of his stubborn Riskbreaker, and the effort had all but floored Ashley on the one occasion she had tried it. But on that birthday, she had come to him not as a warning or a threat; she had simply wanted to /see/ him. She had wanted to welcome him with her own voice into the world he was about to enter. She hadn't wanted him to be afraid. Most Rood Bearers he spoke to over the years mentioned their ascension as an ordeal, but he had never really considered it in that light. There had been pain, undoubtedly, the Rood had worked its changes both physically and mentally all in the span of a heart beat. Pain was to be expected. What he remembered best from the whole ordeal however was the overwhelming feeling of /love/, her love. She had been waiting a long time to welcome him home.

// There was never any doubt that I was hers… Her servant… her child… //

The mage stepped through another curtain of mist, close enough now to hear the sound of another's breathing. Something brushed the hem of his long jacket, gently tugging on the heavy wool. Surprised, he looked down to see a long finger nail had hooked playfully through the decorative hem. Following the boney appendage back into the fog he soon discovered the rest of the withered, grayish arm and so found his lurking goddess. She was curled on the ground folded around and over herself in a cozy bundle as she continued to poke at the gold trim. Amused, Sydney drew closer and crouched next to the lounging crone. Her face and chest were still all but lost beneath the confused mass of hair but he was certain he could see the milky-white eyes watching him carefully.

" Greetings great lady… " 

 The noise she made was something between a chuckle and a purr. He smiled as he poked her extended hand seeing what she would allow in her childish mood.  The goddess gave her hissing laugh again and tucked her hands back underneath the shelter of her hair. Müllencamp's happy sound was infectious, and the cultist found himself laughing with it. " Oh how I've missed you, Lady… Won't you speak with me? Like we used to? "

At first it seemed the woman didn't understand, but slowly she propped herself on her elbows and let the hair fall away from her gaunt face. " Ssssssssssssssssssssssydoneeeeeeeeeeeeeeey… " 

" Yes… That's right, I'm Sydney. " He studied the area around them thoughtfully. " It's a bit dull, really… Wouldn't you like someplace a little more… comfortable? " Moving slowly so as to not startle his companion, he willed the mist back and rearranged the Shadows so that they were sitting in a little park. The blonde plumped his pillow for a moment to hide his observation of the medusa-like woman's reaction. His goddess was completely engrossed in studying the grass tickling her hands. He ducked slightly to accommodate her uncoiling as she rolled to study her new landscape. The vast expanse of leathery-tale reminded him of nothing so much as dragon hide, but there were no scales to add sparkle or luster. The skin was old and dry looking, a dingy worn-out sort of brown color that was mottled with occasional olive overtones. It looked unhealthy, malnourished. /She/ looked unhealthy.

" You haven't been taking care of yourself… don't worry Lady, we will soon put you to rights… " He 'tisk'ed slightly as she began to energetically tear up the grass and patted her arm to get her attention. " First thing I think is to deal with those /claws/ of yours… they make you look positively savage! " Even though he kept his voice light and cheerful she seemed to pause at his touch; one of her boney hands released the clod of dirt in favor of catching a hold of his upper arm. The woman's expression was almost of pain as she pushed herself off the grass, inadvertently hauling her smaller companion up with her. Startled, Sydney tried to shake his arm a little --implying she could let go-- but the grip stayed firm. The goddess was watching him as if seeing him for the first time producing a haunting sort of 'hoot'ing noise as she toyed with his hair. The claws on the free hand came disturbingly close to his eyes but the blonde tried not to flinch.

" Müllencamp? … Lady you seem to have me captive… is there something amiss? "  

When the other giant hand secured itself around his free arm, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. She was doing nothing deliberately cruel; it was hard to tell if she was even aware that her actions were uncomfortable. The goddess was now eagerly sniffing his jacket. The close proximity with her hair forced him to get a closer impression of her own less-civilized odors. 

"Lady… You're hurting me… "

Careful to not seem distressed, he worked to slowly free himself from her unwitting prison. Her hands clenched tighter holding him fast as she sensed his intent. He wasn't aware of when she had gathered her bulk beneath her, but when she stretched herself up to her 'standing' height he was very aware of the sensation of being lifted like a feather. Somewhere, several feet below his dangling shoes, the ground beckoned. The blood was struggling to get to his fingertips, causing pins-and-needles to tickle everything below his elbow. Resisting at this point was next to impossible without doing the simple-minded goddess serious harm. The cultist grimaced as his more survival-driven instincts were screamed for him to do /something/. 

// She doesn't mean it… she doesn't understand that it hurts… be calm… she'll put you down… be calm… //

" Ssssssssssssssssssssssssdoonnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey… " The large eyes blinked slowly. Her smile was nothing but brown and jagged looking teeth. " … huuuuuuuuunnggrryyyyyyyyy… Ssssssssyydoonnnnnnnneeeeeyy… "

Looking into the maddened eyes, Sydney suddenly got the impression of others caught in his same pose; priests, wandering ghosts, even a terrified and frantically screaming Mole. The panicked mewling of the once familiar Shadow denizen was nearly unrecognizable. Horrified, he sensed how she had consumed his old neighbor; how she had consumed them /all/. He gasped realizing what the Dark was showing him. 

"No! No that can't be… she would never…" 

// She /did/… I can hear them… oh by the Dark… Ashley was right… Teo was Right!  She eats /people/ … She doesn't care! She'll eat /me/! //

Determined to get out of the uncomfortable position after all, the blonde focused and tried to summon the strength to push the over eager woman away. His spell was weak at best. The energy struck her full in the face but it only served to tighten the already painful grip on his arms.  She hissed again and in the white emptiness of her eyes a spark flickered and came to life. The cultist's smiled sickly as her crude spell washed over him, sending his smaller body into rigid shock. He was encased within a living bolt of lightening. Blinding red energy flashed over, around, and through his spasming muscles. It was impossible to not cry out. He screamed and hated himself as he did; knowing his wail of pain would only excite her further. Unable to move, unable to think, he clenched his teeth mercilessly against a second outcry and prayed for the goddess to lose interest in the game. 

In the daze of agony arcing through his body he could almost swear he heard Ashley screaming his name.

*************************

*************************

(**) Ok, now think…. 300$ in 1955… was a hefty wad of cash. Don't laugh. Remember money appreciates over the years!

Notes: see the ending of CH8, won't you? Thanks, you're a doll. :) 

--Lunar

http://www.roodinverse.dreamhost.com


	10. Looking Forward.

**Looking for the Lost:** **part 8**

An AU Vagrant Story fic. All standard disclaimers apply. In addition, the author would like to state, she is a fish.

*************************

_I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls _

_with__ vassals and serfs at my side, _

_and__ of all who assembled within those walls _

_that__ I was the hope and the pride. _

_I had riches all too great to count _

_and__ a high ancestral name._

_But I also dreamt which pleased me most _

_that__ you loved me still the same_

_(Enya-Shepherd's Moon-'Marble Halls')_

It was a gray day. As far as the eye could see the clouds had that heavy, leaden-look of impending snow. Idly flipping to the weather channel, Elsie blinked to see that most of Europe and all of Asia were reported to be having foul weather. It didn't take a top level mage to sense that /something/ was up. Shutting off the small TV in her bed room she padded up the stairs to a second, more enclosed suite where her husband customarily slept. She always found the lack of windows to be a little oppressive. He was asleep as he always was in the morning, but even he looked uneasy. Vincent was far more sensitive to changes in environment. She pondered trying to wake him but didn't have the heart to disturb his rest. He had only retired a few hours ago, and would be up again before sundown to check on the various reports and business news of the day. Later then, they would talk. 

// Maybe we can try that new Chinese place tonight…// 

Vincent was a very cosmopolitan vampire, or at least had grown used to humoring his wives' little eccentricities over the many generations. She would have muu shuu. He could drink tea and enjoy the atmosphere. Elsie sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh and reached out to tuck an errant curl behind her husband's ear. He would wake up later resembling nothing so much as an electro-shocked Pekinese. He always did. The vampire shifted slightly, frowning in his sleep.

"Vince…?" A tired red eye cracked open to blink at her.

"Ugh… Who would have ever thought… an insomniac vampire…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No… no it is alright… I wasn't sleeping well… strange dreams…"

His wife tilted her head curiously. "I didn't think your kind could dream."

"We don't, not usually…" He sat up with a grumble and patted the bed to imply she should join him. The invitation was very welcome. She shed her slippers to crawl under the covers; her body heat quickly warming both him and the bed to a comfortable degree. "… the Dark is active today… more so than I've felt… in a long time."

"Do you think it has to do with that American boy?"

"Who, Ashley? Hard to say… but whatever it is, it's going to be big."

"What should we do?"

The blonde man made a face and tucked her head against his shoulder. "What /can/ we do… Sit tight and wait for whatever it is to blow itself out…" His voice was calm, but she could feel the energy vibrating under his skin as he checked the old spells surrounding the historic manor house. This was Vincent's home just as much as it belonged to her family over the generations. He would do his best to protect them. He always had.

"They say a storm's coming…"

"Of that, I have no doubt." Casting magic in daylight was especially tiring for the vampire. He looked older than usual as he sank back in his bed and reached for the phone. His servant downstairs answered immediately. "Daniel, you and your brother are to stay indoors until this blows over… yes, yes I feel it too. Keep watch. Alert me if anything… /exciting/ occurs."

Elsie smirked as he hung up in order to snuggle close to her again. "Don't tell me… you're hungry again."

"Spell casting does tend to make a make a man peckish." 

"Alright then, but just a snack…"  He chuckled as he tilted her head back and placed his lips on her neck. Outside, a crack of thunder heralded the on set of the snow storm.

*************************

The song had melted into a loving hum, words abandoned as the little boy drifted in and out of contented sleep. Warm arms cradled him, rocking him gently back and forth in a soothing motion. He was surrounded by layers of veils and silky locks of dark hair. They tickled his face and hands as they swayed gently in the darkness. Sydney curled his chubby little hands into the soft fabric of the woman's robes and smiled in his sleep.

" All the world… all I have, all I am… I give to you my child, my own, my golden soul. And you will be magnificent… wait and see… you will be everything I am and so much more…" The goddess curled herself closer around the dreaming child's spirit, sheltering him from his lonely nightmares. " Sleep sweet Sydney… and when you awake, know that I love you…" The little blonde boy curled tighter on his cot, forgetting in sleep that both mother and home had been taken away. 

*************************

_Pain. _

Searing, scalding, unbelievable /pain/.

 There was no place he could send his mind to escape it. The sensation surrounded him, almost lighting him up from the inside out, threatening to burn him away to ashes. After the initial shock of the ordeal, the cultist found the feeling to be strangely welcome. Although the torment continued, it no longer had the numbing affect it had in the beginning. Battling with non-existence for so long, he had been worried that feeling /anything/ this strongly had become impossible. Pain, pleasure, all the simple expressions and actions involved with living seemed alien and beyond his reach. There had been a hollowness within him that refused to ignite with his old fire and ego; he could feel it now, growing stronger with every minute. Sydney was in /agony/, but he was /alive/. Adrenaline, or the memory of adrenaline, surged through him in a heady rush. It was strangely easy to detach, to be both writhing in the madwoman's hands and still have the ability to analyze the situation, to find a weakness and act upon it. He reached for the well of power he had been hoarding, forging it into a bolt which pierced her leathery tail. The goddess screamed in pain and looked behind her to see the cause. Her spell collapsed as she was distracted. Taking advantage of her inattention he kicked sharply from his elevated position and caught her sharply in the ribs. The grip on his arms loosened but not enough to slip free.

//Damnit, LET GO! //

// Sydney are you…? //

// Keep Away, Ashley! // The blonde had no energy to spare on mincing words, shoving the worried presence out of harm's way before the woman could sense him. He threw another spear of fire, hoping to distract her again. Müllencamp didn't go for the bait a second time. Her milky eyes blinked at him, thoughts obviously struggling to the surface. She took abrupt action. The claws clamped around each arm squeezed sharply, easily crushing muscle and bone. The cultist screamed again as his goddess calmly tore off his right arm.

*************************

Pei flinched in mid-swing as another agonizing scream echoed around the smoky room. Her momentary inattention earned her a scratch. A skeletal hand darted past her guard to rake her face. With a snarl she brought the blade up to cleave the dehydrated head from the corpse's shoulders. The litch collapsed with a moan, dissolving into dust and dark mist. She frowned.

// There goes one more holy ancestor who won't have to be reburied when all of this is over… I knew it would be bad… but this is disgusting. At least cleaning up will be easier than expected. Provided the buildings are still standing. //

Their corner of the temple had taken a beating already, and she was well aware that whatever It was, it was only just getting started. The forest woman stared through the demolished section of wall and hissed at the sight of the phantoms emerging from the woods. They were standing at the apparent center of a magical war zone, and every unidentifiable ghoul, monster and feral within a thousand miles was showing up. She cut cleanly through a spectral opponent who came too close brushing the residual clinging mist from her face as it dissolved. Behind her Liet was apparently alternating between picking off their larger opponents and swearing at Ash-Li, his ancestors, his gods, and anything that tried to ooze, tear or claw at his beloved suit. 

"Stay DEAD, Damn you!"

She had to give him credit. The assassin had already slain one dragon, and would probably have to take on a second one before long. He had rather earned the right to swear like a dock worker if he wanted. The winged creature had plainly been dead for some time; its hide was hollow and stretched as tight as drum-skin over the massive bones. Unable to do more than gape as the ancient beast tore away most of the wall, she had had a clear view of the way her friend had angrily shot out both of the monster's sulfurous eyes. A third shot managed to shatter the bony cranium, and the massive lizard had dissolved in the same manner as all their victims. The priests continued to chant, sometimes together and sometimes in turns; maintaining the wards that protected their little island of floor from the odd warping changes affecting the rest of the land around them. Pei watched the ornamental trees on the lawn suddenly shrivel and twist into nightmarish shapes. The grass withered and blurred into strange scuttling animals. 

"Look out for the rats!" Liet looked up at her warning and swore again, crushing one that came too close with the heel of his shoe.

"I HATE RATS!"

As topsy-turvy as the world had become, she tried to check on her third companion as often as she could spare. His hoarse screams had died down to a sobbing sort of whimper. The forest woman glanced back to see the man was no longer thrashing about but was looking very pale. His eyes were wide open, although whether he was aware of their problems or not was impossible to judge. Around them the Dark swirled and sloshed like the sea in a storm, and he clenched his teeth fighting the forces that threatened to pull him apart.

// Hang on… we all just have to hang on… // 

Snarling her frustrations at the world at large, she brought her sword to the ready and grinned at the new set of challengers who were crawling, floating and flying towards her. The snowflies were swarming; a virtual blizzard of ecstatic little winged insects surrounded the mountain peak.

// Somehow… if I survive this… I don't think living in a city would be so very bad… //

Behind her was a muted, "Die Hell Bitch!" causing her to laugh out loud.

// If /we/ survive… then maybe… //

*************************

Energy was coming in form somewhere, a steady trickle that kept him from slipping entirely into unconsciousness. Sydney fought his way back to himself with grim determination, forcing past the pain to register what his eyes were showing him. His stomach turned violently as the cheerfully blood-splattered face of the goddess swam into view. She was playfully crunching through the remains of his elbow. For a moment he almost laughed at the strangeness of it. It was his arm; logically he could stare at the object she was eating, and recognize the features, the sleeve, and the fingers. Emotionally, he found that he couldn't quite connect. It was too bizarre.

// …my… arm…? // Müllencamp had forgotten about him, letting him dangle like a broken toy as she nibbled her snack. The prophet looked down and gagged again at the unnatural empty space where his arm should have been. Had he been a real man, or alive in any conventional fashion, the wound might have been fatal. By effort of will alone he slowly turned his head to inspect his remaining limb. Still trapped in the monstrous fist, it was the twin to the angry aching in his torn shoulder. The damage was severe, making the arm and hand look almost like a broken marionette's. He smiled in dizzy bemusement. There was remarkably little blood, but then what was the use of blood in a place like this. Blood, body, even the withered grass below, it was nothing but a trick of the mind. 

// The damage… the injury… is all in your mind… // This time he did laugh, the strange bitter chuckle startled his captor and caused her to lift him up for inspection. Ignoring her for the moment, he closed his eyes using the distant Riskbreaker as a point of reference to pull himself together. For the first time since his introduction to the Shadows, he truly comprehended their nature.

// Every thing she taught me… I thought I understood… but really, that was only the beginning… //

He opened his eyes to smile at the goddess and the shattered flesh attaching arm to shoulder melted away. Free, he fell bonelessly to the misty ground and rolled to his feet. His own reservoir of power was nearly depleted, but it was more than enough to bend reality. Finest Damascus clenched experimentally against the cold surface beneath him, claws cutting easily through the chilly vapors. Inspecting his replacement limbs he laughed again and wondered that he wasn't still a little mad himself. Suddenly it occurred to him how annoying the mist was, blinding him, clinging to him. The cultist spoke a word and watched the white fog shrivel and die. Müllencamp looked up from her meal in confusion.

// Everything… everything is nothing but an extension of someone's mind… the stronger the mind, the wider the scope… This whole place, it was created by her. Was controlled by her… but now there are only two of us… And I'll be damned if I will be out-thought by a raving lunatic. // Sydney clenched his fists in anger. The memory of pain was still fresh in his mind. He was angry. He /wanted/ to lash out… and a target was readily available.

" Care to try that again? " Grinning like a devil, he charged.

*************************

It was pouring, water coming out of the sky in a near constant deluge to hammer the tops of the metal passenger cars like kettle drums. The sound was almost enough to make Valor scream. He hunkered down next to the window of his nearly empty car and tucked his knees defensively against his chest. The rhythm of the pounding water was relentless, adding to his already considerable anxiety. 

// Make it stop… make it stop… makeitstop! // The bard clamped his hands over his ears and whimpered. It wasn't ordinary rain, the stormy air felt charged. 

"It's alright, Valor…" The quiet voice almost made the teen jump out of his skin. His construct had returned and silently resumed his seat. Dark eyes flickered out the window, silently gauging something more than the flow of water. The construct was soaking wet, his quick sprint to the snack car and back had been enough to slick the glossy hair flat against his skull. Wordlessly he unscrewed the cap to one of the water bottles and did the same to a small flask of rum. Pouring equal measures of both into a plastic cup, he pressed it into unwilling hands. "Drink, it will help."

"What's happening…?"

"It's the storm."

"Make it stop… please… it hurts…" Grimacing at the taste of the cheap booze, the shaking boy downed the shot before crumpling the empty container flat and dropping it. 

"Shhhh." Strong arms pulled him out of his huddle and across the seat into the sheltering warmth of a damp shoulder. Somehow the sound didn't seem as oppressive when tucked against the demon's chest. Muted and fading in to a whisper, the torrent continued as the train made its way through the small towns, heading north towards New Jersey. Finally able to focus enough to think properly, the bard vaguely worried that there would be flooding or some other potential trouble because of the unnatural storm. 

"Do you think…"

"Shhhh, don't worry about it now."

"But the storm…"

"I know." The soft voice was worried. Az was looking out the window again. Curious, the young mage poked gently at the shields wrapped around him, startled at their strength. 

"The storm… what does it mean…? You know don't you…"

Black eyes peered down at him with gentle concern. "It means /change/, Valor… Something is changing… something big."

"… I wonder if Mason is alright…"

"He's probably fine."

*************************

There was mist coming up through the floorboards. Liet looked down in alarm at the uncanny display of magic. Something was welling up from underneath, pushing up, pushing /out/. He glanced over at the guardian and blinked again. The straining man was definitely glowing. Black fire played tricks on his eyes as it burned merrily along the muscled arms, dancing down the chains to intermingle with the energy pooling on the floor. The various beasts that had been attacking them steadily for the past hour were pulling back into the gloom, suddenly fearful of their goal. Holstering the riffle, the assassin wondered if maybe they knew something he didn't.

"Um, people… Ash-Li is on fire… is this a good sign or a bad one?"

"What?!" Pei turned from scanning the room to look down with a start. Whatever was happening, it was centering solidly around the center of their circle. "Oh… crap…" She leaned over and shook on of the priest sharply, breaking his concentration. The old man blinked as he lost his place in the mantra, coming back to himself with obvious effort. "You, old one… I think something's changed…" Seeing the old monk look around in alarm, Liet went ahead and copied the maneuver on their remaining priest. 

"This looks bad." He crouched next to the bed and risked the magical fire to gently shake his comatose friend. "Oi, Ash… you there…?" The guardian's eyes flew open at the touch but when his lips moved there was no sound. "What…? You are on /fire/… What. Do. We. Do….?" 

The younger man sucked a breath of air through clenched teeth, obviously straining against something. His brown eyes were almost completely dilated when he opened them again, fixing Liet with an uncanny stare. "… rnnnn…"

"What?" 

Pei leaned closer, trying to help decipher the garbled command. Ashley focused and forced the words to come out normally in spite of uncooperative muscles. 

"RUN, you idiots!"

Not needing to be told twice, the forest-woman hauled one of the old priests over her shoulder and signaled the assassin to do the same. They sprinted to the tree line at record breaking speed, barreling over several slower-moving corpses along the way. The snowflies were almost thick enough to walk on, making everything into a ghostly sea of shifting white. Luckily, most of the creatures summoned by the Dark were paralyzed, transfixed by what was taking place in the remains of the temple. Liet risked one look back as they reached the top of the stairs and began their decent. Even through the choking clouds of moths he saw the roof explode off the ancient building in perfect clarity. A pillar of black fire was reaching heavenwards in a volcanic spout of destruction. The ground beneath their feet gave a foreboding rumble, promising more to come.

"Holy shit." Ignoring the querulous demands for explanation from his passenger, the gunman dove down the stairs no longer caring if he could see the path or not.

"Liet?!" A woman's panicked voice cut through the general sounds of disaster and grinning in the face of death he changed course to keep up with her.

"Just Run you Crazy Witch!"

"Don't call me a witch!"

"Now is not the time to argue!"

*************************

To say it was an even match would have been stretching the truth. Sydney's initial assumptions held one fatal flaw. Inside the Shadows there was little the goddess could do to harm /him/, but there was nothing to say she couldn't harm the /Shadows/. Adaptability had always been one of the woman's strongest assets. Madness had done nothing to change that. 

The cultist cursed as he shifted out of the way of another staggering blast. Where he had been standing was neither scorched earth nor flames, but rather a misshapen hole. The battle zone now resembled nothing so much as a mad golfer's playground. It was disconcerting to be reminded of how small their world really was. Müllencamp's entire kingdom, the seemingly infinite possibility contained within, was nothing compared to the Sea of Chaos in which it precariously floated. 

// Strange, I knew that this place was forged from a special sort of chaos… but I never realized… just how delicate the balance was. I never had to, she always sort of took care of that for us… // He dodged again only to land too close to one of the sinkholes now littering the landscape. The ground beneath his feet shifted unpleasantly and as he looked he could see small fragments and streamers of mist breaking off from the shattered edges to be sucked into the vortex below. The Sea was reclaiming its own.

// At this rate there'll be nothing left… What is she /thinking/? // Diving back towards his enraged adversary he managed to catch the massive wrists before she could unleash another wave of destructive force, forcing her aim away from the already compromised floor. He winced as she opened up a wide swath of nothingness in the sky above them. With every hit the landscape absorbed, the Dark shrieked like a living thing. 

// Anchors, this place is based on the principle of anchors… If the Lady is the primary anchor… keeping us from sliding into the Sea… then Ashley is the other… like two people playing tug-of-war…so the more the Dark flees from her… the more it flows… to him? // He could no longer reach his lover with his mind. The swirling maddened energies of the landscape blocked all but the most primal contact. The blonde could /feel/ the Riskbreaker, could feel the incredible forces pulling on the man. There was no alternative; the knight would just have to hold up on his own a little longer. Two of the craters on his left suddenly collapsed into one another, and the ground shifted and shuddered as a new vortex formed. The area around the fissure began to crumble at greater speed. He blinked as the colors of the world around him seemed to melt and bleed into the hole. Time took on an unsteady rhythm as it too was bent towards the fissure.

// This has to stop… but how does one stop a goddess…?! //

He threw himself away from the worst of the distortion and used his claws to give him added grip as he climbed out of range of the collapsing zone. Sydney flicked a quick fire spell at the distracted crone. More sparkle than heat, it served to keep her attention focused on him and not necessarily on ripping up the landscape. Unstable as she was there was no telling if she was even aware of the danger they were in. Thankfully she responded to the bait and slithered away from harm.

//… probably the same way you stop anything else… Hog tie it and beat it in the head until it passes out… // 

The mad woman moved with startling speed sometimes, as if anger helped her remember some small portion of her old skill. Her clawed hands seemed to almost stretch even longer as she came within sudden striking-distance, forcing him to raise an arm to block. Bone and metal scraped off each other with an ugly sound.

// /If/ it passes out… //

" Come Lady… I think we must seek higher ground… Your 'redecorating' leaves a little to be desired. " Keeping a weather eye on the rate of decay near the edge, he made a steady retreat. The cultist didn't dare to use magic to use any teleportation spells so close to the rift, there was no telling where he would end up. Müllencamp attempted to hurl another blast of energy. They both watched in alarm as it crossed half the distance between them before slowing and reversing course, sucked into the expanding abyss.

" Well… /now/ what are you going to do… Hmmm? " Her answer was non-verbal, lunging for him with ferocious strength.

*************************

The distant mountain peak had an almost-pretty nimbus around it now. With the initial flare dropping back below the cloud line it was caught and partially hidden by the smoke and clouds of insects, giving it a blurry sort of ultraviolet glow. Salten chortled and produced a small measuring device which he pointed roughly where the temple used to be. The little display warmed from black through the reds and climbed the color spectrum until it pegged roughly ten ticks below the highest setting. Still chortling, he made a careful record in his notebook.

"Only two ticks higher than an hour ago… the boy's got stamina… I'll give him that."

"It's still two hours until midnight."

"You think he will last that long? I'm impressed."

"With the time dilation, it may feel shorter to him…"

"Or longer…"

"Well, aren't you full of cheerful thoughts tonight." The golden-eyed man fumbled in his bag for an incongruous pair of opera-glasses with which to observe the distant phenomena. "This will make a marvelous footnote in my book…"

Methuselah simply snorted, the sound echoing down from his perch atop a convenient pile of boulders. He had discarded his voluminous cloak in favor of freedom of movement. His dark leathery wings were half extended for balance. "It will get worse before it gets better…" Reflected light from the energy flares painted the lenses of his goggles with splashes of livid pink and sun-set orange.

"Marvelous, and me without any recording equipment. The folks back home will /never/ believe this…"

The sparkling peak in the distance continued to slowly tremble, sending tiny landslides of shale and loose paving stones down into the valley below. 

*************************

The tremors underfoot were getting worse, and unlike the increasingly erratic attacks of the madwoman they were unavoidable. Sydney felt the tell tale warning shiver of reality just in time to leap clear of a sudden soft spot developing underfoot. Critically instable, there was no longer anywhere he would truly call safe within the crumbling Shadows. He could only pray that the remaining landscape would hold-together long enough to complete one final enchantment. A flash of white in the growing gloom caught his eye.  His tower was faintly visible in the darkness. Its pale color almost burned in comparison the distorted and brooding landscape. Even at the impossible distance, he could easily pick out the missing portions of roof, and a gaping void along one edge of the base where a wall should have been.  Only the tree seemed to be truly standing firm against the increasing pull of the chaos all around them. Bent and shivering as if caught in a gale, the brilliant greens seemed to imply some distant sunlight. The tower was glowing with the mighty oak's reflected light. 

// Ashley… // 

The limbs bent and waved in painful looking motions as the Dark roiled and shook. Sydney forced himself to look away, not wanting to see if there were any tell-tale cracks in the rugged bark. His Riskbreaker could stand firm against the tide. He had to. Angry hissing reminded him of the task at hand and he carefully gauged the distance between himself and the goddess. If he kept moving fast enough, she didn't have the focus to respond and with a little effort he found he could keep her roughly stationary by deliberately shifting her attention to one side or the other. The cultist's sense of humor, ever detached from any concept of appropriate timing, was more than happy to point out that he was literally running circles around her like a small puppy. Thankfully the majority of his attention was taken up with casting his spells, otherwise the image would have distracted him with laughing.  The mage dove neatly under a swinging arm, placing a carefully scratched mark in the ground as he rolled back to his feet. Seeing her eyes on him again he murmured a word, and suddenly split in two. Each of the Sydney-glamours turned a different direction, confusing the deranged goddess as she tried to follow both at once and ended up coiling around herself instead. She collapsed in a tangled heap and tossed an irritated wave of fire at her attackers. The false-cultist dissolved in a puff of glittery smoke as the real one simply ignored the flickering heat in favor of scratching another symbol. Again and again, he circled the snarling snake-woman distracting her, teasing her, always staying just out of reach of the killing claws as he placed ward after ward in an intricate pattern. He had to work quickly. Given time she would either sense the subtle magic twisting around her, or shift a critical amount and destroy one of the fragile marks. 

// Then again this entire area could collapse into another sink-hole, and all of this will have been a pointless exercise… // 

One of the magic-circle's edges was now being encroached on by the time-distortions that seemed to precede an imminent collapse. Between one staggered foot fall and the next, seconds seemed to crush painfully close to one another then suddenly spread out into an uncanny freeze-frame.  Luckily the effect was just as disorienting for both of them. Sydney tripped over himself as he fell free of the altered zone, but trapped in the middle, the goddesses movements seemed to flow at a snail's pace. He reached over and scratched the last ward into the dust. The wards ignited with satisfying intensity and the cultist raised his eyebrows in amazement at the lines of energy knit together without a hitch. Now frozen in place, Müllencamp whimpered softly as she struggled where she lay. Stepping carefully as he shifted from one time zone to another the cultist navigated through the rune-covered area to crouch by her side.

" I'm sorry, Lady… I wish there could have been another way… "

// But she is the key, the center pivot on which the Shadow balance… Killing her would mean an end to everything… wouldn't it? //

The world seemed more stable now that her power was harnessed, but he couldn't guess how long the spell would last. 

// It feels like the calm before the storm… // He listened to the still vibrating Dark, trying to get a sense of what needed to happen. Whatever it was trying to say, the message was incoherent.

"…My Lady…?" The cultist hesitantly reached out to touch one of the boney shoulders. She was face-down into the dead ground, half curled as if in pain. "Müllencamp, /please/… tell me what I must do… I don't /know/… I wasn't ever taught what to do…"

"Sssssssssssssssyyddoooooooonneeeeeeeeey…?"

" I'm so sorry… " It was too much to watch her as she weakly fumbled. Now that the immediate threat of her had passed, he had the time to truly realize the magnitude of the crime he had just committed. Sydney was reminded of the collection of butterflies in his father's study. Pinned cruelly to the white mats even while they still lived, there had been some ghost of their final suffering that he could sense even as a child. He had always had an affinity for the dying, and the dead. 

"Please… you can't die… I need you… I can't do this without you…" Forgetting their battle, forgetting the disintegrating world beyond the edges of his spell, forgetting even the unyielding cold metal that had replaced his human arms, he curled himself over the shattered woman; her shoulders were carefully encircled by his clawed hands as he leaned over to embrace her. Not knowing how to stop himself he pressed his face into the worn rood-tattoo on her back and wept like the child he had once been.  There was no going back to that time. The innocent joy he had felt to discover he had been loved, abandoned and then loved anew, it had sustained him through the harshest trials of his young life. There has /always/ been Müllencamp. Her smile, her laugh, the very smell of her was the basis of who he /was/, why he existed. There could be no prophet without a prophesy. There could be no priest without a god. There could be no son without a mother.

// Please… mother… tell me how to make this right… // Confused, the goddess twitched uncomfortably. There was no recognition from the stiff form in his arms. The ground trembled again, and another piece of the Shadows slowly crumbled into darkness. The disorienting colors of Chaos were surrounding them now. Island-like in its solitary integrity, Sydney's magic circle was all that sustained them from a plummet into the depths below. Suddenly the drop didn't seem so entirely unwelcome. Dissolution would mean an end to the pain, one way or another.

// At least… We could go together…? //  

// No! //

There was something, something holding him back from the idea. Even as he contemplated the alluring colors he found suddenly he had no real desire to become one with them. A strong tugging sensation like a rope around his chest was asserting itself. The nagging, anxious feeling wouldn't let him go, forcing him to separate himself from Müllencamp's self-destructive emanations. Disoriented, it took him a moment to recognize the sensation, the distant voice trying to call him back. He nearly crumbled again, realizing what he had almost done. 

// Ashley? Oh bloody hell… I can't even think straight with her like this… these feelings… which are mine and which are hers…? // 

 The mage felt like thin rope stretched between two poles. On the one side was the goddess; on the other was the Riskbreaker. Both were struggling with all their might, trying to hold onto to him while he was reaching his breaking point. Sitting up, he wiped his tears away with the back of one metal hand while resting the other on the blurry outline of the prone woman's Rood. It looked malformed some how, twisted much in the way /she/ had become twisted. He could feel its distorting influence, how it had seeped into her very essence and corrupted all it touched.

// But how did it happen… I don't understand… and how the hell do I /fix/ it… //

*************************

Michael Donnelly pulled his car in the garage just as the freezing rain turned to hail. Another dreary holiday season had come and gone and February seemed to be determined to be the darkest and bleakest ever. The mechanic shivered despite his heavy sweater and coat. The air felt strange for some reason.

// Impossible to say if someone is tinkering with it… but it feels wrong some how… // 

He had recognized the two additional cars outside the house as he had pulled in, and the thought of his two eldest children coming to pay a visit added some warmth to the otherwise dark day. Of course the fact that there were only two children now, added a bitter edge to the joy. Michael hesitated to go into the house, pausing to look at a cluttered shelf. A catcher's mitt sat forlornly amidst the random cans and bottles, it was a memento of long summers in the backyard. He could close his eyes and remember the childish laughter and sunshine, the way his son had of frowning in concentration as he learned the basic pattern of catch-and-throw. It was strange that memories of Mason became harder and harder to summon as the boy grew up. Always quiet, always reserved, he seemed to blend into the background of so many family gatherings. As a father the fading memories only stirred up a greater sense of guilt. Had they ever really /talked/ once his son had left for school? Had there been some sign, some hint that there was something wrong? He couldn't remember. 

// And then /nothing/… He come home for Christmas, and everything seemed fine… and he went to visit a friend… and the next thing anyone knows we get a letter from California from him saying he's going away for a while… //  He still had the letter, carefully kept out of sight in his desk. His wife couldn't bear to look at it after that first shock. Michael had read it again from time to time, worrying, wondering, but as to where his child was, it was still a mystery.

// I should have… I don't know… I should have felt it… shouldn't I…? He wasn't the sort of boy to just run away from something… And what was there to run from? The school had nothing but glowing things to say about him, he was popular, intelligent. He /seemed/ happy… 'A son that any father could be proud of'… there was no reason for him to disappear. //

He pulled the old glove off the shelf and toyed with it in the gloomy darkness. // No reason at all… //

"… Come home, boy…"

The door to the house opened, momentarily blinding him with a swath of warm yellow light. "Dad?" Kathy paused mid-sentence as she saw the old leather mitt in his hands. He fidgeted guiltily and put it on the hood of the car, but his daughter simply smiled. "Mom wanted to know… when you were coming in…"

"I'll be right there."

*************************

/Pain/. 

Burning, corrosive, gut-twisting pain. 

It was all there was. It was in his eyes, his ears, and clawing its way down his throat. It was under his skin, inside his bones, and coiled vise-like around his mind. There were seals inside his head, burning brighter than white-hot steel, wreaking havoc with his thoughts as he held them shut. Ashley couldn't even be certain why it was so important that the doors stay closed, all he could remember was that it was his duty to see that they did. He was to stay here, to bar the doors… someone else was to … do /something/… Thoughts dissolved like overexposed photos, their contents bleeding away, irrelevant so long as his goal remained fixed. 

// … but Sydney… // Somehow the tattered image lasted long enough to be understandable. His mage was somewhere, not far, on the other side of his barrier. His mage was in trouble. In a titanic feat of strength, he freed some scarce energy to reach past the pain; trying to get a better sense of what was wrong. It was risky, but he had surpassed what he had thought was his limit hours ago, and yet he still existed. 

// I won't… I won't let him go… //

With his outsider's perspective on the setting, he felt the subtle shift of power even before his lover did. The goddesses limp fingers flexing slowly against the surface.

// SYDNEY! //

**************************

The shout seemed to come from everywhere, a surreal mix of internal and external voice that shook him loose from his inertia to look about in surprise. The Riskbreaker's voice seemed to act as a trigger for a cascade of events, first of which being the outer three rings of the mage circle dissolving into bursts of static. Turning to check his remaining layers of spell in concern, he completely missed the goddesses' twisted smile. The ground that was now no longer caught up in the spell was blowing away like dry sand, twisting into eddies and whorls as it was sucked into the multi-colored oblivion. Straining across the now wide gulf between his little island and the tower, he watched the entire top floor of the structure crumple and dissolve. Ashley's tree was losing leaves at a steady rate.

// It's over… I've lost… // He shuddered in fear. // I wasn't good enough after all… I couldn't figure out how to make this stop… //

A rustle of dry skin from behind him was his only warning. Müllencamp was heaving herself upright, preparing to lunge. Her scream of anger made his skin crawl. There was nowhere to run, they were too far from the next patch of remaining land to jump, and the small island was barely big enough to hold them both if they sat still. He scrambled back as she moved, bracing one hand into the loose packed edge of their little crumb of land as he brought the other arm up to block her strike. 

// I don't want to die! //

Too busy anticipating the decent of her hands; he completely missed the thrashing tail. A massive curve of flesh was trying to re-coil itself as the goddess sought leverage for her dive. The heavy tip of the leathery appendage swung like a ship's boom as she attacked, catching his elbow and sending him sprawling backwards with a cry of alarm. It was too late to dodge, to late to block, he could barely see as the dust clouded his vision. He flailed, trying to stop the coming impact of claws on throat, and felt something crush into his out stretched fingers with meaty force. Sydney's elbow slammed painfully into the ground under the sudden weight and he closed his eyes, prepared for the end.

Strangely, nothing happened. 

A rattling sort of sigh escaped the woman sprawled across his chest. The cultist released the breath he had been holding, and cautiously opened his eyes. His pinned position was growing uncomfortable, but the goddess still made no move to shift herself, either to finish her attack, or to pull away. Something felt strange. His right hand was hopelessly trapped, but he couldn't see quite how she had him caught. The left hand was free however and he gave the shoulder resting against his chest a gentle shake.

"…Lady…?" His movements dislodged the dark mane of hair, and something metallic glinted from between the dirty locks. Dazed and curious, the cultist blinked the last of the grit from his eyes, and gently pulled the hair away for a better look. What he had thought were shiny pieces of foil in her hair were actually thin blades, five to be precise. Feeling strangely detached, he watched the pearls of red fluid trickle from the base of the cruel knives, worried at how the dark stain was spreading incongruously across the withered skin. Her chest was pierced at almost the direct center of the intricate design on her back, marring it with jagged bleeding wounds. Alarmed, he vainly fought to free his pinned arm, but something was wrong; the knives piercing the old flesh wiggled slightly and she whimpered faintly in pain. The goddess seemed far more fragile now then she had a moment ago. 

// … blood…? // Still not quite acknowledging what he was seeing, he looked morbidly at his free hand, noticing for the first time just how evil-looking his bladed fingers could be. 'Thorns on a Rose,' Müllencamp had once jokingly commented. His armor, his protection, they were not meant to be loveable or gentle. Their purpose was to rend and tear, to /Cut/.

//… oh no… nononononono… this isn't happening… // The Dark shuddered silently, a hush seeming to have fallen over everything. // No, no I didn't mean it… // His breath came in choked hiccups as he slowly tried to sit up. Shifting the woman was a slow ordeal. He was terrified of what he would find once he rolled her over.

"...Müllencamp…? " His work suddenly became easier. The woman in his arms was shrinking, shifting, fading. For a desperate moment he was afraid she would dissolve all together, but instead he witnessed something marginally better. The old grey skin and matted hair were reshaping themselves into smoothly tanned limbs and silky brown tresses. Her leathery tail shrunk steadily and metamorphosed into two shapely legs. Strangely, as the transformation was taking place, the Rood slowly faded from view until it disappeared all together. All that was left was smooth skin, interrupted abruptly where she had been impaled on his hand. He looked down where his right-palm was pressed unnaturally flat against her breastbone. The claws had slipped between her ribs as they had fallen together, dealing out a mortal injury. Sydney didn't know if he was better for her if he left the blades where they were, or tried to pull them out. The goddess was awake but dazed, her now-human eyes not quite focusing as she struggled to breathe.

// I've killed her… I've… // Numb with horror, he felt a childish moan of anguish bubble forth as he settled her on the ground with supreme care.

" Lady, I think… I need to take the blades out… before they do any more harm… " The cultist's voice seemed to register with the woman because she blinked slightly and grimaced in pain. Slender hands curled around his wrist, coaxing him to do what needed to be done. Bracing his other hand against her shoulder, he closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. His claws came free with an unpleasantly wet sound, causing him to cringe as he felt them scrape bone on the way out. There was more blood now, flowing freely down her stomach and wetting the leg of his pants where she was leaning back against his folded legs.

" Oh Lady, I am so sorry… "

" …stop…saying that… child… " The voice was only a phantom of its previous strength, but still made him smile. She sounded tired, and weak, and still very much like her old self. "… It was… necessary…"

" I don't understand…" Thankfully for his nerves, the wounds were sealing on their own, the blood slowing to a trickle and then stopping all together. Not sure how the offer would be received, he produced a blanket and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders as she sat up. The goddess smiled gently and brushed a tear from his cheek.

" My sweet Sydney… It has been hard on you… hasn't it… Life hasn't treated you very fairly… even I bring you pain in the end… "

"…Lady...?"

" No child… not 'lady'… not anymore…" She closed her ageless eyes a moment, and for the first time he saw line of age and worry forming around her eyes and mouth. The ancient priestess sighed softly and rested her head against his armored shoulder. " I'm so tired, Sydney… so very tired…"

He smiled to keep the tears at bay. " Rest then… I will stay with you. "

" No time. " With a grunt of effort, she sat up straight, her hair cascading in an artfully messy way over the soft cloth. " There is so much you have to know… and you must hurry before all is lost. "

Feeling once again like the child awaiting instruction, he tucked his knees against his chest. " What must we do…? " She shook her head, interrupting his questions.

" Not 'we', Sydney… just you… I think… I won't be able to stay with you until the very end… Or stay very long at all. " She chuckled ruefully at his stricken expression. "… Come now, my darling-one, surely you know already…? You were always the cleverest one… " The blonde shook his head mutely, easily falling back into patterns he had thought he had outgrown centuries ago. Silence was good; silence was /safe/. The dusky woman stroked his face again, feeling his anguish.

" I'm dying, child. "

" …No… "

His stubborn refusal only made her smile again. " Some things are beyond altering, Sydney… even /here/… there must be /some/ kernel of truth under all the lies, remember? If there wasn't, then people would have no need to believe or to dream… "

" But if you die… "

" The Dark will live on… "

" But how…? "

Müllencamp ruffled his hair in a maternal fashion. " Can't you /guess/…? "

*************************

Teo had never seen much sense in pretending to be things he wasn't. It wasn't cowardly to cringe as the ceiling seemed to collapse in reverse, falling upwards and vanishing into the darkness. It seemed down right sensible to crouch as low to the floor as possible, shielding his head with his arms as the walls also began to erode. No debris would enter the circle, the enchantments guaranteed at least that level of safety, but it was still unnerving to watch the solid structures around him vanish into splinters and nothingness. Peeking to his right, he could now look through the gaping wall and see the storm lashed tree as it swayed and groaned. The oak looked like an animal writhing in pain.

// But the tree is also the man… is it not? So if the tree breaks… // 

The consequences were not pleasant things to ponder, and he forced his attention elsewhere. A good distance away, looking almost like a speck against the overwhelming shades and colors of chaotic darkness, he could make out a second /tiny/ land mass. If he squinted, he could just make out the figures of the cultist and the monster. They seemed to be struggling in some final battle. He blinked his tired eyes and the wind simply /stopped/. The stillness was uncanny.

// Now what is going on…? //

*************************

" I can't explain how I began to change, or even when… by the time I noticed that I was no longer quite myself… I couldn't remember how to go back… It was strange… So very strange… losing pieces of myself whenever I turned around. " The woman pulled her blanket closer around her. " I doubt that there was anyway of stopping it, once it started… "

" Surely, I could have helped… I could have done /something/… " 

" Hush child, I never blamed you…" He grimaced at her scolding tone. Guilt and confusion had twisted into a painful knot under his ribs, but he tried hard not to show it. " Do I look old to you, Sydney? "

" No, Lady… You are beautiful. "

" And you are a silver tongued flatterer, I know you of old, my troublesome one… I am, you know… I /am/ old. " Müllencamp studied her hands in bemusement and then looked around at the final crumbling pieces of her world. " When I first started, I thought I'd like it… immortality… it's what every human dreams of after all. Strange, after all this time, I find myself missing it… the day to day. I never appreciated what I had. "

" What are you saying…? You want to go back? "

"I… I want to leave, Sydney… It's time for me to leave. I think perhaps, I've wanted to leave for a long time… "

The cultist shivered at how calmly she spoke of abandoning her role. " And you want me to stay… "

" Well, who else is there…? "

" But Lady… I /can not/… "

" Says who? It's remarkably easy once you get used to it… "

" But I'm not a god! "

" Neither was I, in the beginning. "

Sensing his terror she looked away again, smiling slightly. " But if you truly do not want the responsibility, I suppose there's nothing to do but give it to Ashley… He'll understand, I'm sure. "

" …Ashley…? No, you can't… the strain of being both Bearer and Anchor would /kill/ him… "

" Once he is anchor, he wouldn't be able to die… However it might make him quite mad… ah well, it's a risk we'll just have to take. " He stared at her in alarm as she flippantly dismissed the likely outcome.

" You… you /mustn't/… "

" My choices are limited child… It must be one of you… "

// But… // The goddess passed a hand over her face in a tired gesture and Sydney found that his arguments were dismissed before they had even fully formed. 

" It was always going to be you… "

" I know… I… just don't know if I'm ready… "

" I think you are… You were almost ready years ago… nothing has changed. "

" But I'm not the man I was then… so much has happened… I'm so weak… "

" No, you're not the man you were. You're far more mature… " Müllencamp smiled and captured his nervously fidgeting claws between her hands. " Where is your faith, my son…? "

" Lady… "

" You called me 'mother' once… it's always sad when children grow up… "

He smiled at the teasing jibe. It was sweet nostalgia to speak with her like he had as a child. The times when she could be perfectly serious were so rare. He knew she shared them with him as a sign of affection. " …Mother… what if I fail? "

" You won't. "

" You sound like Ashley… "

The goddess smirked. " You should listen to the man, he may be a stubborn ass, but he has his own brand of wisdom that can not be dismissed… Besides, it takes a remarkable sort of person to survive the ordeals he had overcome… and he did it all for you. Shouldn't you be willing to fight equally well to protect him? "

" I would do anything to protect him. "

" In that case…? "

Sydney bowed his head in acceptance. " Tell me what I must do. "

*************************

// I'm… still… sane…? // 

The absence of pain was almost a sort of pain all its own. It was strangely quiet now that the Dark had settled down. At first he had been too tired to notice, but with the lull he had the time to catch his breath and his bearings. He was alone in the wreckage of the small temple. Lifting his head to get a proper look around was simply too much effort. More than anything, he longed to  /sleep/, but that was impossible. Ashley lifted shaking arms to rub the sweat from his face. He could see the night sky through the gaping holes in the roof, but his tired eyes couldn't distinguish the stars from the snowflies. The haze might have been caused by magic; it might have been the first hint of dawn.

// But… Müllencamp… //  

The knight could feel the changes in the Dark, knew as more and more of the energy was pooling around him as opposed to /her/. Quintecent as it had suddenly become, the burden wasn't so great. He took his rest while he could, wondering how long the quiet would last. It didn't feel 'over' yet. There was little hope, his pragmatic side told him, of things ending so calmly. Even if his cultist /had/ managed to get the woman to remember herself, the balance had yet to be restored. 

// Don't dawdle whelp… I'm not as young as I used to be. // The Riskbreaker blinked; realizing exactly how strange the words would sound when coming from his eighteen year old lips. 

// And /that's/ something else I'll have to tell the mage at some point… Given his reaction to my /last/ drastic change of appearance… maybe dying now really /is/ the way to go… // Ironically, imagining the blonde's floored expression gave him something to look forward to.

// What the hell… If I live that long, I'll have earned a little fun… // 

*************************

" So it's… like a dance? "

" It /is/ a dance… and it's also a spell… and a song… and a state of mind… but you'll only understand that later I think. I didn't understand it for years. " The goddess smoothed her new dress and looked around at her handy work. Everything that they would need was in place. There was very little to it, really. The ballroom floor stretched out around them, every detail pulled from Sydney's memories of his ancestral family estate. Walls and ceiling were a little less than solid. The columns and tapestries hovered more like phantoms then wood and cloth around the shadowy impression of a room. Feeling rather dwarfed by her expectations of him, the cultist tried hard not to fidget.

 // Now is not the time to doubt… I have to believe… or I will surely fail… But do I? Where is my faith…? Why do I tremble…? //

There was no turning back now. Even as he hesitated the woman was taking his hands in hers, positioning one of the gauntlets on her arm as the other was held up in the air. Hers was the dominant hold. 

" Remember child, I will lead the first round… and Sydney, Do try and pay attention? "

He felt as though he were ten years old, all over again. " Yes, Mother… "  Taking him firmly by the waist, she took her first step, and the waltz was begun. 

*************************

The rumbling underfoot was an almost constant vibration as the monks and villagers crouched low behind their wooden barricade. With every tremor higher up the mountain, small cascades and eruptions of rock would ricochet down the hillside to pelt the walls and thatched roofs. Liet ducked instinctively as a fist-sized projectile punched through the thick fibers overhead to thud softly in to the packed-dirt floor.

"This is getting out of hand…" One of the older priests seemed about to agree when another small ballistic screamed down from the sky and lodged itself into one of the storage lofts above their heads. A sack of provisions burst open, spilling its contents thought the gaps in the rough wooden shelf. The steady shower of bran splashed over the assassin's head and began to slip uncomfortably down the back of his shirt. He shook his head with a grumble, sending a shower of grain around the small room.

"Hey!" Pei and Shu Lao grumbled bitterly as they shielded themselves from the unwanted debris. The elderly priest picked one of the grains off of his robe to study it whimsically.

"Well now… that's something… isn't it?"

"What?" Liet paused mid-contortion to give the man a curious look, but seeing nothing comprehensible he returned to trying to shake the prickly rice out of his sleeves.

*************************

" Can you hear the song? " 

Sydney closed his eyes as he bent and swayed to the traditional dance. The melody came easily as he listened, threading through his consciousness until he wondered how he hadn't heard it before. He opened his eyes to stare at his mentor in wonder. " Yes, yes I can hear it now…"

The goddess smiled. " Now… look beneath us… can you see the path? "

Glancing at his feet as the woman twirled them around in a loose spin; he studied the ground beneath them. Faint, so faint as to be nearly indecipherable from the illusion they danced in, a silvery white line was etched in the floor. The looping curves faded away quickly on either side, allowing him to only see a few steps worth of where they were headed. " It's difficult to make out… "

" I was afraid of that… you've inherited your father's blindness, you know… at least a little. A single weakness on my otherwise golden child… " Müllencamp chuckled lightly as she twirled them again. " Mark the music my son, /and/ the path… to lose the tempo is to fail, to lose the way… is to fail… "

" …to stop… is to fail? "

" I am afraid so. Once begun, the dance must be finished, or else you will fall, and chaos will take you. You mustn't falter… and above all… you mustn't fear. And /that/ is the hardest thing… "

The cultist smiled. " How can I fear, if you are with me? "

" Ah, but beloved… I can only come with you part of the way… the last dance… you must dance alone. " They glided together in silence as the energies gathered around them, enjoying each other's company one last time as they called the Dark home.

*************************

It was starting again. 

Ashley closed his eyes and willed his tired body to go to the limit one last time as the Dark began to surge. 

There was a strange sort of division in him now, between the real world around him and the false world inside. Attention split across two realities, he felt like a distant spectator. He couldn't be sure if what he was seeing was the starry sky, or the under-side of a bizarrely transparent ballroom. 

His mage and the lady were dancing, holding each other with the tender intimacy of lovers as they progressed through the courtly ritual. It wasn't envy he felt, watching them, watching the stars. Such personal emotions were beyond him in his exhaustion. The knight lay in his shadowy ruin, resisting the insatiable pull of the currents as they tugged him to-and-fro, and simply watched the two dancers in the sky. They looked too beautiful together, less like master and servant than like brother and sister, or even mother and son. 

The Riskbreaker couldn't help but yearn for every glimpse he had of the graceful blonde as he dipped in and out of view. Something about the man seemed to burn. Sydney was the torch flame to the goddess' ember. All too soon the swirling Dark obscured them in a hazy fog.

// … Sydney… //

*************************

The pattern alternated from complex to simple, and the mage made careful note of each of the unexpected twists and turns for when his own time came. They rounded the last curve with a lazy sweep and almost without thinking; he shifted his hold on the lithe woman in his arms. She smiled as his hand settled firmly against her back and allowed herself to fall into the passive roll. It was up to him now, to see that they made it through the second pass safely.

" Strange… that this day should come… You are both everything, and nothing like I planned you would be. How fitting for a child of mine… I had intended you to be perfect, a burning light to rule the darkness… but when you finally were born… "

" …I was a disappointment… " It didn't hurt, he found, listening to her musings. So much of his energy was needed for other things that he could listen to her assessment with almost cool acceptance. 

" I never said that. "

" You never had to. "

The woman shook her head gently. " You were yourself, Sydney. I had simply forgotten, what it meant to be human. You didn't 'burn' but you… twinkled. There was so much potential… but also so much weakness… Even blessed as you were, there is only so much any human can be. You'll see… when you are a god… it's so different. So many things are easy to forget. You'll probably even forget me. "

" I could never forget you. "

" There's no way to describe it, being a god… it's more than just knowing that you can do anything… it's this /feeling/… the rest… becomes rather insignificant. Addictive really. "

" Then why give it up? "

" Because I can? "

The blonde laughed, but there was little joy in it. " Despite my weakness… You still think I can accomplish your great task? "

" You aren't weak. "

" But you said… "

" I know… but let me finish. " Müllencamp rested her head against his shoulder as he began the first of several intricate twists. " It was /him/ you know? I… I didn't anticipate that. I didn't foresee Ashley at all. /You/ did… but not I… that's when I knew for certain… that you would go beyond me, beyond what I was capable of. It was as if you were the lamp, and he the oil. On your own, neither of you has… there was something dormant in both of you, but together it works. Do you see? "

" A little… "

" I should have told you this… a long time ago… that I was jealous of him. Your Riskbreaker could always do what I could not… it was He who awoke the fire in you, not I… it was he who took action to close the WellSprings… not I. I saw what needed to be done… but I was too cowardly, too selfish. It is no surprise, that he came back to you… how could he not? The pair of you were, no, still are more akin to the moon and sea than two men. He could no more resist your pull than he could cease to breathe or the tides could cease to flow. I should have told you this… then there would have been no reason to despair. I am sorry, child. "

" Why speak of fault when we were both to blame… "

" Sweet Sydney.  Despite your efforts, your gentle heart will always give you away. "

" I was never a very good villain. "

"You were a very roguish rogue. "

" I'm glad I amused you. " He looked down in worry as she sagged a little further into his arms. " My Lady? "

" I'm so tired, Sydney… "

" Just a little further… " The cultist was beginning to feel the strain as well. His feet were no longer moving with the fluidity as before, placing each new step required more effort than the last.

" It's time… "

" No, not yet… "

" Be brave, Sydney… "

He bowed his head into her flower scented hair and forced the tears to wait. " Will I ever see you again? "

" I do not know… " She smiled up at him. " I'm proud of you… you know that? "

" …I know… "

" Good. " The form in his arms was wavering, becoming less and less solid against the pressure of his arms. He struggled to let her go instead of clinging to her now phantom-like body. " I wish… I wish I had truly been your mother…"

" You'd have gotten tired of father, I think. "

"Hmmm, you're probably right." Her smile was brilliant despite her increasing transparency. " Take care of things, will you? " 

"Of course."

"I knew…" Müllencamp was little more than a shadowy impression of a face, the luminous eyes slowly blurring into darkness. "…that I could count on you."

// Until we meet again, mother. //

There was no time to weep. Like a puppet his arms and legs continued to bend and turn, following the melody even though his thoughts were miles away. His feet moved on despite the loss, carrying him further and further down the path to his solitary finale. It wasn't until he had moved a quarter of the way around the ballroom's arch that the strange sensations from his legs registered on his consciousness. Weary, he looked down and had to blink in alarm. 

He was dissolving.

Starting where his shoes touched the nearly-invisible ballroom floor, and slowly creeping up his calves, was an odd sort of pins-and-needles tingle. It didn't affect his movement. His knees continued to flex, his ankles to turn, but they were no longer /his/. Sydney tried to acknowledge what he was seeing, but his tired brain did not want to believe. The tingle was spreading upwards. Cloth and flesh at the border of the affected region wavered then broke, like oil separating from vinegar breaking off into little bubbles of color only to fade into the surrounding vapor. Left behind was a strangely brassy sheen. The stylized contours were obviously feet, but they resembled nothing so much as his armored greaves from Leá Monde. Delicately layered sheets of metal were shaped into the parody of a boot and held in place with regularly spaced pins. His shins and knees were transforming into much the same. Where smooth flesh and black leather had been was emerging an eclectic frame work of metal bands and rods. The prophet was being transformed from 'human' into something /else/.

// What is happening to me…? //

His old terrors were still buried deep, only waiting for a moment of weakness to boil forth once again. Swallowing convulsively, Sydney forced his eyes away from the changes overtaking his body focusing only on the task at hand. 

_Step, step, turn, reach.___

The tingle had become a steady burn, only adding that much more challenge to the dance. It felt as though he were fighting his way through treacle as his legs struggled to obey his will. Still the strange transformation continued, reminding him vaguely of the discomfort of slowly wading into chill water. His flesh cringed at the unwanted cold, but still it inched higher. The cultist could mentally draw a line at mid-thigh below which he did not want to look. 

// Ignore it, forget it, focus on the dance… //

_Turn, turn, bend, counter-turn, step, step, step.___

The movements came quicker now. He was at the first of the fast sections and clenched his jaw with the effort of making faltering limbs cooperate. But the sensation of cold fire creeping over his hips and groin was a difficult one to ignore. Sydney's eyes were stinging with moisture. He couldn't be sure if it was sweat or tears. 

// But tears don't sting… and I'm too cold… // His arms began to burn as well, an disquieting sort of buzz that began at his claw tips and traveled back along the metal palm and wrist. They too were losing their customary silvery sheen, the cool color melting off like beads of mercury.  

// I'm… not afraid… //

_Step, step, counter-turn, reach, bend, turn, step.___

// … Ashley… //

The coldness had reached his lungs, burning both within as well as without, changing things better left alone. Every breath was a struggle. The prophet closed his eyes and tried to only hear the music. // Breathing… is unnecessary… you don't need it… let it go… // His mind rebelled point-blank at the idea, insisting that /yes/ in fact he /did/ need to breathe, and that no, a heart wasn't optional either. Hollow, he felt hollow. The Dark was curling around and through his newly altered limbs, filling up the strangely empty places with its tickling presence. It was too intrusive. It was too strange.

// No… This is… I can't… //

The music did not stop however, and neither did he.

_Spin, step, spin, reach, step, step, turn.___

// There will be nothing left… // He danced on, wondering grimly what would happen when the transformation was done with his shoulders and eventually engulfed his head. 

// I'll be nothing more than a doll… like one of those armors I so casually summoned… a puppet… //  The tingling in his throat made him want to choke. 

// Was this what it was like for Her…? Why didn't she tell me about this… what if something has gone wrong? //

Sydney bowed what was left of his head, unwilling to watch as strands of his hair were floated free of his head to twinkle to nothing in the darkness. 

// … Ashley… I don't know what to do… //

But the Riskbreaker wasn't there, and he danced on alone.

_Step.___

_Step.___

_Reach._

The melody sounded strange now, less like music then like a muted roar. It filled his shattered thoughts and swirled strangely behind his eyes, or what was left of them. Watching the path was impossible. He couldn't remember where it was, or what purpose it served. He was the dance. He was the Dark. The cultist was uncertain if it was he who was moving his now golden gleaming limbs, or if he was the one standing static and the Dark was moving through him. 

// who… am I…? //

Eyes played tricks on him, showing him phantoms of things half remembered. A woman with flaxen blonde hair was laid-in-state on a royal looking bed, her pallor not of the living as she and the room faded from view.

_Turn._

_Step.___

A little boy, like enough to be his twin stared up at him with huge eyes from his crib. Those grey optics --a certain mark of their kinship-- seemed to bore into the back of his skull, seeking and finding answers to unasked questions. It was bizarrely painful to be on the receiving end of a stare so like his own. "Come Joshua, we need to take a little trip you and I…"

"I know…" The words hung in the darkness long after the old nursery faded from view.

_Step.___

" There will be some pain… at first… " Suddenly he was surrounded by scent of caves and torches and unwashed bodies. The ceremony had been a rushed and secretive affair for good reason, but the cultists showed no sign of their weariness as they stared up at him on the platform. Somewhat drunk with the goddess's presence in his mind, the world seemed to slosh and spin as he looked too quickly to the right and nodded at the old priest to begin. His left arm was placed reverently on the stone alter and strapped into place. The heavy cleaver snapped down in a silver blur, and his vision went white.

"… and now the other…"

 The disembodied voice that had once been his sounded remarkably coherent. 

// … am I… dying? //

_Step.___

_Step.___

"I will have a little of your skin, heretic… and who knows, if you survive this small indignity, maybe I'll claim the rest later… as a trophy. Immortal that you are, you may yet recover."

Against his will, he cried out as the flesh was peeled from his back. He had not wanted to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, but having the Rood taken in such a vulgar fashion was more painful then he could have believed; an act of rape on his flesh and spirit. Still he mustered a twisted smile for his captor, one that only grew broader at the sight of the horrified Samantha standing near by.

"You are cursed, Guildenstern… you are not the chosen Successor… and when your die, your soul will be pulled from the wheel and cast into nothingness… back to the mud that spawned you."

Lifting his bloody trophy so he could appreciate it better, the bearded man only smirked. "Bleat all you want, little Shepard-boy… maybe I will be generous and let you live after all… my men deserve /some/ entertainment after the trouble your cult has caused… even scarred, you'll be pretty enough for /that/ I warrant."  The female knight blushed and looked away.

"Burn in hell."

The knight's laughter echoed oddly in his skull as he faded from view. The pain from the cut remained, a strange piercing contrast to the numbness otherwise filling his odd body.

_Spin._

_Reach._

"… Sydney?" His old nurse, a gentle woman with a starched apron called him as he giggled and hid behind the curtains of the nursery.

_Step.___

_Turn._

"… Sydney?" Hardin's voice was a hesitant whisper, calling his attention to the ambush waiting for them around the next tree.

_Step.___

_Bend._

"SYDNEY!" Hurt and angry, the Riskbreaker all but vaulted across the distance between them, desperate to strike out at the reason for his confusion. Behind them Grissom's corpse lay dead in the sunny clearing.

_Spin._

_Reach._

" You've done well, Sydney…" The goddess turned to give him one of her knowing smiles as the sea-breeze caught and played in her hair.

_Step.___

_Step.___

He stumbled, surrounded by darkness. Pain was radiating from the center of his back, or where his back had been. 

// Is it… over? //

The cultist put his arms down and staggered to a halt, trying to remember what he had been doing. 

// …I… //

There was nothing, his mind --like the Shadows—was nothing but disjointed shards. The ground beneath him, stable for so long, faded away like morning fog and for a novel moment he enjoyed the sensation of falling. Arms reached out to catch the phantom air. Something in the back of his head clicked, and he looked down to see his clawed appendages hanging limply at his side. 

//Not… arms…? //  He tilted his head back to see a third set of limbs, a delicate network of fragile golden spars and fine wire mesh.

// Wings…? I have wings! // The bat-like sails stretched wider at his command, scooping at the air as he had once been taught as a dragon, but they were too fragile, too new. The Dark was flowing too strongly for such delicate creations and they buckled and collapsed. He winced, surprised to find he could still feel such an 'ordinary' physical pain. 

// I'm… falling… // Sydney fought for some sort of understanding, realizing that falling was bad, but not fully sure why.  He looked down at the swirling colors beneath him and wondered at how familiar they were. More livid and wild-seeming than the Dark, the ocean-like surface below him beckoned greedily. 

// No… I don't want to go there… // His struggles did nothing. Without his wings, there was no way to hover, and there was nothing to hold on to. Energy happily chuckled and twisted around him cheerful, loving, and completely unhelpful. A small part of him pointed out that maybe he could /command/ the flows, but he couldn't remember how. It worried him.

Fear came back to him, the first focused emotion he could really recall. The feeling twisted in the pit of his stomach and voiceless, he cried out.

*************************

// Ooops. //

 Ashley cringed as the wild flare of Dark ripped through his already strained barriers and tossed him about like a leaf on the wind. One minute his mage had been dancing with the ancient goddess, the next reality had suddenly decided to rearrange itself ignoring him or his desires in the process. He did his best to channel the energy /up/. Praying that the residual fall out wouldn't destroy the mountain, or the country. The knight looked around while the energy poured past, no longer a part of it so long as he didn't try and actively resist. It was as if he existed on the boundary of his two worlds. On the one side, was the indistinct outline of his temple, on his other side was a curious broken realm of small islands and mist hovering precariously above the rolling surface of chaos. The maddened colors were familiar enough to send a shiver down his spine.

// Hello again… I'm not going back… It was hard enough to get out the first time, thanks. // 

Something felt different. The direction of energy, first out, then in, now expanding again was the same, but its taste or texture, or some measure he couldn't quite explain, had changed. He peered anxiously into the rioting darkness, trying to find any sign of his mage.

// Come on, whelp… give me a sign… or Gods help me I'm going after you whether you like it or not. //

The Riskbreaker blinked as a bright light suddenly twinkled into existence, falling from some upper level of the Shadows in a long plunge towards the angry surface below. 

// There…? //  

Not even fully aware of his actions, he abruptly shed his ties to the Waking and plunged across the boundary into darkness. Calling on his old power felt strangely unfamiliar, but it responded adequately when summoned and he wasted no time to analyze the eccentricities. In a single leap he plunged through the empty space that had once been his homeland, coming to land with a predator's grace under the battered sweep of his tree. Clothing unconsciously shifted from robe to tunic, and again to the glossy-black plate armor that he had worn only once before. He smiled at his gauntlets, realizing he no longer needed the helmet. 

// No one to fight today… // With another inhuman leap, he crossed the distance from one island to the next, jumping from point to point, occasionally having to scramble as the crumbling surfaces deteriorated beneath his fingers and feet. He never took his eyes off the form plummeting closer and closer. 

// I've got you… // 

The little voice in the back of his head politely refrained from asking bothersome questions about where he planned to /land/ until after he was already in the air for the last jump, arms outstretched for the catch of a lifetime. The smaller form impacted gently against his chest and he curled protectively around it. 

For a moment he watched in stunned wonder as small bits of filament and metal broke off of the trailing limbs and shimmered into darkness. Ashley closed his eyes, summoning the Rood and all of its renewed strength to assemble something beneath them to break the fall. The Dark was more than happy to oblige. At first they plunged through mist, then a thicker fog; his cape catching and slowing their chaotic decent. Ashley smiled as they came to rest in the safety of a gray plain.  His sigh of relief caught in his throat oddly, turning into a choked gasp and the knight became aware of the painful tightness in his chest. 

// Oh no… // 

The body in his arms stirred slightly, its struggles child like, but he found he lacked even the energy to make his distress known. Too much, too quickly, on top of a day of constant exertion, there was nothing left. Numb arms clung blindly to his prize as let his head fall back, careful even now to not crush the fragile metal limbs. 

// I wasn't… after all we've… I wasn't… good… enough? //

Suddenly cold, he closed his eyes and shivered.

*************************

Sydney came back to himself in stages, amazed at the way the memories fell together in a polite array. He felt odd there was no doubt about that, but the roaring in his head had abated to a reasonable level allowing him to count his fingers without getting stuck on '1'. 

// Not surprising, given the amount of energy I just… // He went to curl his fingers against the chest beneath him only to remember that it wasn't possible given the length of his claws. Blinking slowly, he levered himself up on his elbows and marveled at his new arms. 

// It's a wonder I don't fall to pieces… I don't even know what's holding me together! // There was no rhyme or reason to the joints but somehow the golden metal knew where it belonged and how to move. He splayed a hand against the breastplate of the Riskbreaker's armor and was faintly pleased at the contrast of honey-yellow on black. Forcing himself to focus, he curled the claws safely away, and ran a loving knuckle along the sleeping man's cheek.

// And it's all because of you… I would have died… if not for your stubborn refusal to follow orders… // The mage frowned in alarm as the man's shape wavered and melted into smaller, softer lines. Where before he had been half-sprawled across the armored man's chest, now he found that could easily straddle the boy beneath him. The youth's features were vaguely familiar, and yet disturbingly slack and pale. 

// Ashley…? //

The young man --little better than a boy in fact-- looked like he had been on the losing side of a war. It was a far cry from anything he could have expected. The face was tired and drawn, and the lack of hair made his forehead seem impossibly high.  

// Oh sweet mercy… // Trembling with the magnitude of what he was being shown, the cultist reverently placed a palm against the boy's head in an approximation of where his hair should have been. Even with the changes, even with the Chinese costume, the resemblance was striking.

// What is the likeliness of that, really? Being born again and looking /anything/ like you did before…? He could have been born a Nubian, or a Swede, or even a /woman/… I never even /asked/, never considered that… Oh Ashley… what an enormous secret to have to keep… // 

He ran the back of his hand gently against the side of the unresponsive features. 

// But he's just a /boy/… //

The youth was unnaturally cool to the touch. Sydney frowned again, reaching out, needing his lover to wake. There was nothing. He checked the Waking world; still nothing. The prophet pulled back as if burned.

// No! // 

Emotions welled up almost faster than he could name, disbelief, anger, loss, and finally a flat rejection. Ashley couldn't be dead.

It wasn't permissible. 

Not entirely sure what he was planning, the new god closed his eyes and /reached/; following the fading thread that existed between absent soul and body from one end to the other. Barriers that had once stood firm against him seemed filmy as he crossed from one ream to the next. His senses were unnaturally acute, his strength unflagging. He smiled at how easy it was. 

// You're not getting away /this/ time… I told you… I wouldn't let you… //

Each and every resident of the lands of the dead was clear to him, who they were, what they had done. He picked through them quickly, knowing exactly what he sought. There, on the edge, seeming to be dragging its feet with each unwilling step; was the Riskbreaker. He wasted no time in roping the wayward knight. Surprised but understanding, the distant spirit responded eagerly to his touch, unresisting as he gathered it up in order to be poured it back into its fading body. Sydney wondered if his new face would allow him to smirk. He suddenly craved a mirror, or better yet a cowl. The youth beneath his stirred as life returned, color flushing through the face and clothing. Thick dark lashes shivered and slowly lifted.

// I'm not human any more… what if he doesn't like it… what if I disgust him…? // The mage hated the way his emotions refused to settle. He looked away, digging his new claws into the grey soil for stability as he fought for control.

"… Sydney…?"

// …don't… // The cultist couldn't help himself, turning back and looking down at his knight. Brown eyes were wide with unreadable emotion as the boy reached up, a strong hand catching him under the chin with amazing gentleness. The beginnings of a smile were playing across the parted-lips.

"You're beautiful."

// I… am? // He was spared from another painful round of self-analysis by the way his lover's face abruptly twitched in alarm. Ashley was staring at his hands in mute horror. Obviously worried at what he'd find, he ran a palm across his smooth scalp and winced. It was almost enough to make the cultist laugh.

"It seems… I am not the only one who has changed…" He wasn't sure how he spoke, but it seemed to work, his words causing the cringing man to blush and look sheepish.

"Syd? I'm sorry… I…"

"Hush, I understand…" Sydney tilted his head, considering the words. "I understand a lot of things now… more than before, at any rate."

"You're a god."

"I don't know if I would go that far… a minor divinity, at best."

"Good for a miracle or two, I think." Obviously referring to himself, the Riskbreaker ran a curious finger along the metal ribbon that had replaced his mage's right arm. "You look as though you're made of clockwork."

"No wonder you like it." No longer afraid to inspect himself, he shifted slightly and repaired his wings with a murmur. Ashley hummed in appreciation as the delicate lacework of metal stretched and then folded neatly against the metallic-man's back.

"What is it like…?"

"What, being a god?" The mage shook his head. "Strange… I don't know if I like it."

"… maybe it's the sort of thing that grows on a person." The knight was unsuccessfully trying to smother a yawn and Sydney smiled. Suddenly it wasn't enough to just watch from his perch, and he missed his old body fiercely. All he wanted to do was to curl around the exhausted man and kiss him until his lungs ached. A metal hand flexed in frustration.

// Will that be denied us now? What good is being divine, if I can't even… // Glaring at the offending limb he felt the Dark stir in mild amusement, and sensing its meaning, began to laugh. His lover simply blinked in tired amusement as he deftly twisted reality once again. This time when he reached down to pat the smiling face, his fleshy wrist was caught and kissed.

"See? You're getting the hang of it already…"

"Bastard." The blonde bent forward, feeling the Riskbreaker's hands sliding appreciatively along his back as he touched their foreheads together. "… love you."

His knight laughed self-consciously. "It's a little strange… to have you the same height."

"Does it bother you?"

"A little, doesn't it bother you?"

"No… Or at least, not right now…" He tilted his head for a kiss, amused at how the lips were softer, and a little fuller. 

"Surreal," Ashley whispered. Laughing again at the knight's discomfort, the cultist placed a hand firmly against the other man's chest, encouraging the tired body to resume its former illusion. His second kiss was met with far more enthusiasm than the first, and the third. The forth was interrupted with another yawn.

"Go to sleep, Riskbreaker. You've had a long night."

"…but …" Tsk-ing gently, the mage exerted a tiny portion of will to send the stubborn man into a gentle slumber. It was very tempting to put his head down on the muscled shoulder and rest as well, but the giddy energy dancing within him was eager to do /something/. Looking around, he conceded that there was plenty that had to be done.

// Like… close off the borders before the world goes mad… // The Shadows were his responsibility now. He had made a promise, and he meant to keep it. Giving his resting knight one last look, Sydney quietly began to work on rebuilding his world.

*************************

"…Teo…?"

Teo uncurled from his protective huddle when he heard his name the second time, and dared to take a peek. The changes that met his tired eyes were both drastic, and to his surprise, rather pretty. Instead of raging chaos, or swirling mist, there was rolling meadow and pale high-summer sky.

// It's… over? Did I die after all? //

"Shockingly, you seem perfectly intact. Although I admit I had my worries when I found you." Confused, he blinked as a shadowy someone leaned over him in concern. A gentle hand caught him under the shoulder and helped him upright. Smiling, monk blinked at the unexpected brightness, looking around in bemused wonder at the ruins of the tower that were overgrown with thick grass.

"You won?"

"Yes."

The smaller man grinned jauntily. "Congratulations!" The comment seemed to catch the blonde by surprise, making him laugh softly.

"Indeed. But things are such a mess…"

"We'll sort it out."

"Do you think?"

"Of course! With /me/ to help, your chores will be done in no time!" The fair-haired man only laughed again, wordlessly helping the monk to his feet. "What, you doubt my power? I was a Rood Bearer once, you know." 

"Thank you, Master Teo. I have no doubt your help will be invaluable."

"Great! Now… where do we begin?"

Sydney quirked an eyebrow as he considered the question. He seemed to be considering the sweep of his new domain, eyes instinctively seeking the tall profile of the oak-tree in the distance. 

"Where to begin…? The truly serious things have been addressed already, if only for the short-term… and as for the rest? Well… at the beginning I suppose." The mage gave his friend a genuine smile, "There are a few things I would be grateful if you could take care of for me."

*************************

"…Voilà le portrait sans retouche. \De l'homme auquel j'appartiens."

Ashley shifted slightly, coming awake in a wonderfully lazy way. The dappled sunlight on his face was warm, lulling him back towards peaceful slumber. Turning his head slightly, he leaned contentedly against a slender shoulder and grumbled happily. His pillow didn't take the hint, continuing with is soft song.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, \Il me parle tout bas, \Je vois la vie en rose." 

// 'I see life rose-colored'…? Hell, I haven't heard this song… in /years/… // 

Meant to be a girl's rejoicing ode to her new love, it sounded remarkably nice in a tenor range. The cheerful tune was not however, a good lullaby. He cracked open his eyes slowly to adjust to the light, and was pleasantly surprised at the view. The gentle wind was bending the grass into shimmering green waves as it whispered through the tree's branches. Wispy clouds skirted the distant horizon like a vague sort of afterthought to a perfect afternoon. All that was missing was the droning of bees and perhaps a little birdsong.

//… which I'll fix… when I get around to it… // It was far easier to just 'play dead' a little while longer. He was warm and comfortable and really couldn't think of a single reason why he wanted to move.

"Il me dit des mots d'amour \Des mots de tous le jours, \Et ça me fait quelque chose." 

// Goofy love-songs and all…// He gave in to the temptation to laugh and gently tugged on a loose sleeve.

"Sydney… what are you doing…?"

"Hmmm?" The tips of the blonde hair tickled his face as the mage turned to cuddle him closer.

"That's a remarkably girly song… even for /you/…"

"What, you don't like me singing you love songs?" The Riskbreaker smiled lazily at the teasing tone.

"A bit out of character, perhaps… but no, I don't /dislike/ it… the question is more 'why' are you doing it?"

"Perhaps I feel like good old fashioned celebratory gloat… we /did/ win after all… funny how it took Teo to remind me of the fact…"

"It was a close thing, wasn't it…"

"It always is, I think." Ashley raised an eyebrow at his lover's thoughtful tone, slowly gathering the energy to pull himself upright. The fairer man also shifted himself a little, tucking a knee up to support his chin before turning to flash a whimsical smile. "Congratulations… we won."

"You won."

"I couldn't have done it without you. Wretch."

"Bah, semantics." 

Grey eyes twinkled as the cultist studied him, but the words were serious. "It will be along time, before things are like they used to be here… There is so much to do…"

"Can I help?"

"Maybe. When you're back on your feet, for now I'd rather you rested."

"Yes, mother." The man only smirked.

"Ashley…?"

The knight looked over at his mage, curious at the hesitant tone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just… I wonder… what happens now…?"

Chuckling softly, he reached over to pull his lover into a gentle hug. "What ever do you mean…"

"I'm not entirely sure… it's just a feeling, that's all… Once the chores are done… what's left?"

"You're already thinking of 'what's next'?! Frankly, I'd settle for a few years of happy boredom."

"Idiot." The blonde didn't hesitate however to settle himself against the larger man with a contented sigh. Ashley cradled his thoughtful mage and echoed the happy noise. The rough tree trunk against his back was oddly comforting. They watched the grass bend and whisper.

"I think I know… what we should do now…"

"Do you? Tell me."

"I think… we should live."

The mage-become-god pulled away just enough to give him an amused look. "Such a simple philosophy…?"

He shrugged. "It's worth a try, isn't it?" Snorting in amusement, Sydney returned to burrowing against his chest. "I also think… you should finish your song."

_Owari__.___

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Notes:

There are so many notes/footnotes for this chapter I don't know where to begin, so I'll probably add more here as people ask questions or something.  Now, I realize that people reading this chapter to this point have probably accrued a number of interesting and important questions. I'll try and address the basic ones here

#1: "How can you make Syd go through THAT and then have him be /fine/?" --Ok, I'm not minimizing Sydney's trauma or potential trauma for being alone so long; by all means it's some prime-rib angst and I'm not letting it go all too soon. I just think he is capable of bouncing back say, 75% day-to-day functional within a few months. If I ever get off my duff and write the epilogue or the sequel, then it will probably still be a plot point or at least a running theme. 

#2: "Who the hell are all these extra people?" --They've all been in the fic before… just scroll back a few chapters and see ^_^; and yes they'll probably crop up later, yes even Ashley/Mason's family in all their 1950's glory. 

#3: "What the hell is going on with Val?!" The bard-boy had bad luck, always did, and besides, can't have a happy ending without breaking a few… heads. Or something. 

#4: "Is this the End of MULLY?!" Hmmm I will leave this topic for another time. ^_^ God it's great to be evil.

#5:  "What?! No Nookie?!"—see question #1

#6: "But why did Mully go crazy?!" – see #4 

#7: "When is the next VS fic coming out?" --  Good question! I've been meaning to work on my ff9 fic for a while and my comics, and my original fics, and my gods-know-what-else-has-been-put-aside-to-finish-this-fic. So yes, I'd like to write a new VS fic someday with Syd and Ash and their trip back from china… and maybe even them in the 80's but without the big hair… It'll get started when it gets started. Not next week, that's for sure.

#8: "What is that thing Sydney is singing? And what does it mean?" --For the song try:

http://ingeb.org/songs/lavieenr.html 

For a rough English translation, try running it through the AltaVista engine. On that note, I'm looking for a French version of a folk song called "Dona Dona Dona" if you've heard of this tune, and it wasn't from me, let me know ^_^;.

#9 Fi-chan reminded me pointedly the other day that the Waltz probably is younger than Sydney is… this is problematic to me, because I don't know any equivalently circular pair's style dances that are older… we're talking something that was in existence around 1400-1500… serves me right for not doing better research. Any ideas for a substitution? Anyone?

Come on by the website some time, tell me that you care.

http://www.roodinverse.dreamhost.com


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